Some Bright Morning
by winter machine
Summary: A month after Derek's move to Seattle, an unexpected phone call brings Addison and Derek back together to support close friends in a time of crisis. On a tiny, remote southern island, secrets from their time apart and together will be exposed. The Shepherds are forced to face their troubled marriage head-on - with the island's help, can they save it? *Addek* Savvy & Weiss! COMPLETE
1. just a few more weary days

**A/N:** This story started as a request by multiple people to write a flipped script version of Savvy and Weiss's visit to Seattle. I wanted to - but Savvy and Weiss and their history with Addison and Derek ... it's just too great for a one-shot. I adore them. And I was always a little troubled by the thought that Addison and Derek had no idea Savvy's mother had died a month before. I know they were busy with their marital drama, but as Derek said, "these are some of [their] closest friends!"

So I started wondering what would have happened if Weiss had called Derek to tell him, and asked him to relay the news to Addison. Close friends go to funerals. Even when they're having marital problems. So that's what they'll do. Based on the strange timeline of Season 1, you can imagine the call coming somewhere around the middle of that season, possibly that first time Derek spends the night at Meredith's house.

This story will follow a different format than the one I normally follow. No more limited narratives for me; Addison and Derek will both have their voices heard here, and probably some others too. The first chapter will be the only one before Addison and Derek meet up again. As always, everything belongs to Shonda and the wonderful actors she finds to breathe life into her writing.

This is **absolutely Addison/Derek endgame** , just a new - and probably angsty in some places, fluffy in others, bittersweet in more - way to get them there. It's a bit New York backstory, a bit AU, and - just to be clear - very much Addek.

.-.-.

 _ **Some Bright Morning  
**_ _1\. just a few more weary days and then_

.-.-.

"Is that a phone vibrating on my nightstand, or are you just happy to see me?" She sits up, resting her small hands on his chest. "…or should I say see me _again_?"

He pulls her warm body closer, laughing a little. "I'm definitely happy to see you. Very happy. Happy enough that I'm not answering that phone."

"Derek … it could be the hospital."

"It could be … but I'm still not answering. Dr. Grey, I'm very, _very_ busy right now." He rolls them over swiftly so he's on top of her, and she giggles as the phone thankfully stops vibrating.

"There, you see? Nice and quiet." His hands slide over her hips when the rattling sound of his phone against her nightstand starts up again.

"Damn it." He pulls away, breathless.

"Someone really wants to talk to you, huh?"

"Oh, yes. I'm very popular, didn't you know?" He kisses her deeply as the phone continues to buzz.

"Okay, Derek, if you're not going to answer it, I will."

"No, Meredith… wait…" He catches her hand before she can grab the phone and they wrestle playfully for a moment. He's still smiling when he grabs the phone, which has stopped vibrating, and then he sees the phone number.

"Derek … is everything okay?"

"Yes. I'm sure it's fine." He glances at the number again. Except it's late to be calling. Very late.

"Who was it?" Her tone is uncertain.

"A ... friend from New York." He checks the time. It's just after midnight in Seattle and three hours later on the east coast. Why would he be calling at this hour? The last time he called this late...

"A _friend_ from New York, huh?" Meredith props herself up on her elbows, smiling at him. "Calling you now, so late? Are you sure it's not a … girlfriend?" Her voice is light, teasing now.

"Yes, I'm sure it's not a girlfriend. It's a boyfriend. I mean, it's a guy friend." He glances at the phone, then taps into his call history. "And he's tried me twice already before now. I didn't notice."

"Well…" Meredith grins. "I was keeping your hands pretty occupied."

"You certainly were." He pauses to kiss her. "Meredith ... I have to go."

"What? Derek, what happened to staying over?"

"It will have to wait. I'm sorry."

"But it's after midnight!"

"I know. I'm sorry," he says again, and leans over to kiss her one more time before fumbling in the pile of clothes on her chair for his jeans.

"You know, this man of mystery thing is only sexy up to a point," she calls after his retreating back.

.-.-.

 _You'll tell her, right?_ Weiss's voice was tense, strained, down the long-distance line when Derek called him back. _Savvy's not really in a state to talk right now._

 _Of course I will,_ that's what he said even as every fiber of his being screamed out a refusal, because you don't say no to a friend in that situation … do you?

He waits until he's home to place the call, sitting on the porch of his trailer breathing in the clean, healing air. The phone rings four times – it's after 4 a.m. by now in Manhattan; the call should go to voicemail; he has a brief flicker of hope that he won't have to talk to her at all. But Addison always keeps her phone on in case a patient needs her; they were both awakened by laboring mothers in the middle of the night often enough over the years.

Sure enough, the fifth ring is interrupted by the click of the call connecting.

"…Derek?" Her voice sounds shaky and far away, almost unfamiliar. He's clearly awakened her.

"Hi," he says shortly.

"I … can't believe you're calling." For a moment he just hears her breathing into the phone. "Wait, are you … is everything okay, are you okay?"

"Fine," he says brusquely. "I'm only calling because-"

"Derek, where _are_ you?" Her voice is higher and more anxious now, far more familiar. "You never returned my calls and I saw Nancy last week and she didn't know either, and I didn't want to call your mother because she, you know she –"

"Addison," he cuts her off sharply. No one can go directly from asleep to high-speed chatter like Addison, and he's in no mood. "Weiss called me."

She stops babbling instantly. "He did? Is he – are they all right?"

"Catherine died," he says quietly. "…ovarian cancer," he adds when she doesn't respond.

"Savvy's mother _died_? No, that's impossible, Derek. She wasn't sick, I saw her a few months ago in the city and she was fine."

"Have you talked to Savvy lately?"

"No. I haven't, um… " Her voice shakes slightly. "Well, you know, it's been … "

He rubs a frustrated hand through his hair, anxious to get off the phone.

"Addison…"

He hears the quiet rumbling of another voice in the background, then Addison's again, low and conciliatory now. So she's not alone. Maybe he caught her in an on-call room.

"Do you need to go?" he asks pointedly.

"No, sorry," she says into the phone. "I'm here. I ... can't believe Catherine's gone."

"The funeral is on Tuesday but they're gathering this weekend on some … island. Weiss said you would know what that meant."

"St. Cera's," she says softly. "Of course."

"Weiss said he and Savvy are already there. I guess Catherine wanted to be … buried … out there."

She's silent for a few moments, just breathing. "What?" he asks finally.

"Nothing, it's just – I've been to the island - not for years, but it's, um, it's a little complicated to get to … the closest airports aren't that close, it's only accessible by boat and you have to have someone on the island come to get you…" she pauses. "But you're going to go?"

"Of course I'm going to go." Weiss is one of his closest friends. Has been for years. Wasn't Weiss the one who-

"I'm going to go, too."

"I assumed," he says coolly.

"Derek … look, I don't want to make extra work for Savvy's family. The island, it's, um … complicated. I can talk to my travel agent so we can, um, coordinate. To make it easier for-"

"Fine," he interrupts. The sooner he can stop talking to her, the better.

"Derek…"

"What?"

"Where are you? I mean, where are you living? Because if we're going to meet in Charlotte or Atlanta or wherever … I kind of need to know."

He breathes for a moment. A last moment of breathing in air that he's not fighting for before she can get it first. The town won't be his alone once he shares its name.

"Derek?"

"Seattle," he says finally. "I'm in Seattle."

"…oh."

"Have your travel agent call me," he says shortly, and hangs up.

.-.-.

For a few moments she just stands in the bedroom doorway, staring at the closed cell phone in her hand.

"That was Derek," she says finally, faintly.

"Yeah, I got that impression already when I heard you say his name." Mark's voice is gruff, but then it softens when he sees her expression. "What's wrong?"

"Savvy's mother died." She feels tears come to her eyes. If ever there were an opposite of her own cold, withholding mother, it would be Catherine Sevier. She and Savvy were so close and she never hesitated to extend her particular brand of warmth to Addison. Just a few months ago the three of them were strolling on Fifth Avenue, shopping and laughing and ducking into whatever galleries caught their eyes, and now … life just isn't fair. It isn't fair at all.

She glances at Mark, who's sitting expectantly on the side of the bed, watching her.

"Savvy … oh, right. Blonde Savvy. Her mother died? That sucks," he says bluntly. "Hey … you okay?"

"Savvy called me, Mark. She called last week and I didn't call her back because I thought she was calling to yell at me about … you know, about you and about Derek and I just couldn't listen to it."

"Addison." He reaches for her hand and pulls until she sits down on the bed next to him.

"She must have been calling to tell me her mother was sick. And I never called her back. I never …" her voice trails off.

"Hey. You didn't know that's why she was calling." He rests a hand on her shoulder, starts a comforting massage.

"I still should have called her back."

"It's okay."

"It's not. She's one of my closest friends, Mark. I should have called her back. I'm a terrible friend."

He leans forward to kiss her temple. "You're not. You're a good friend, Addison." The hand on her shoulder moves down her arm to pull her closer. "You're a _very_ good friend to me..."

The last month has made it fairly clear to her that Mark's playbook of comfort is limited, but it's generally effective. This time, though, she tenses under his practiced hands.

"What?" He kisses her neck. "Come on, don't beat yourself up, Addison, you didn't know…"

"It's sad, that's all." She swallows hard. "Mark…"

"It's okay. And now we're both awake, so..." She's lying on her back, not sure how she got there, with Mark smiling down at her. "...let me show you what a good friend you are."

"Wait."

She sits up, with some effort. "I'm going to the funeral."

He nods. "Where's she from … Virginia or something? Georgia?"

"Her family has a summer place – well, it's more like an island; it's sort of complicated but … anyway, that's where the funeral will be." She glances at him. "Derek's going too."

He doesn't say anything.

"Weiss called Derek and … I guess he picked up." She wipes a hand across her eyes. "It's starting this weekend, the … stuff, I mean. Savvy's told me about island funerals before. It's days of … people and drinking and fireworks and … "

"…and you and Derek are going."

"Right." She twists a corner of the stark white sheet. "I guess I'll … fly out tomorrow, if I can."

"So let me say goodbye to you tonight, then." He pulls her back down and she lets him, a curtain of hair hiding her face.

"Wait, Mark, stop." She presses a hand to his chest after just a moment.

"Addison." He groans, sitting halfway up. "Can you just make up your mind?"

"I need to call the travel agent." She swings her legs out of bed.

"It's four in the morning," he calls after her.

"I'll leave a message, then." She leans against the blinding white wall in Mark's kitchen, her mind racing. Savvy's mother, gone. Their closest friends, already out on the island …

 _It's complicated,_ that's what Savvy told her the first time they discussed the island; they were perched on top of a wall on the quad, feeling grown-up with their cigarettes and leather bags filled with college books. _It's a complicated place._

She glances at the phone in her hand, the one her husband – because he's still her husband – called; it's his best friend waiting for her to rejoin him in bed now. _Complicated_ is the last thing she needs. She has complicated all on her own.

 _Derek just needs space,_ that's what Nancy said last week, and if he's really in Seattle with a whole country between them, then she supposes it's true. She closes her eyes briefly, calling up an image of the island she first saw years ago. Unspoiled beaches, remarkable sunsets, waving green marshes, privacy. Serenity.

But ... it's tiny. As in seriously tiny.

And now her fingers hover over the pad of her cell phone, hesitating. A shadow crosses the pool of light in front of her.

"I thought you were going back to sleep."

Mark shrugs. "I guess I was too … wide awake." He glances at her as he pours a drink. "Want one?"

 _More like need one._

"So … Derek told me he's living in Seattle," she says, taking the glass from his hand and swallowing a grateful sip.

Mark raises an eyebrow at her over the top of his glass. "And did you tell him where _you're_ living, Addison?"

She drains the rest of her glass instead of answering.

 _to be continued, assuming anyone else wants to read it! Next time: Addison and Derek see each other for the first time since that night. If you're interested, please review and let me know!_

 _Also, would appreciate any thoughts on whether you like the idea of Savvy and Weiss getting a chance to do some narration as well ... because I'm pretty tempted._

Story title and chapter title both from the hymn _I'll Fly Away,_ by Albert E. Brumley (lyrics from the 2000 version recorded by Krauss/Welch).


	2. fly away, oh glory

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the first chapter of this story! I'm sorry for the delay in posting the second chapter. Future updates will be much faster; there were just a few small planning snafus. As promised, it's time for the Shepherds to see each other again. I think we're a lot more excited about that than they are. Please enjoy and let me know what you think...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _Some Bright Morning  
_ _2\. fly away, oh glory_

 **.-.-.**

Charlotte was her idea. And – like a lot of her ideas if she's honest about it – it seemed like a better one from a distance.

Flying into Savannah would have involved a drive – almost two hours in a car sounded problematic at best, terrifying at worst. From Charlotte, they can take a small plane to the coast. As she remembers from her last trip, the only way to access the island is by boat. Plus, Charlotte would be an easier direct flight for Derek from Seattle.

Not that she's heard from Derek since his middle-of-the-night phone call; all their communication has gone through her travel agency, with appreciation for her consideration in booking their travel or otherwise. Whatever he thinks of the travel plans, she has no idea, other than that they're booked on the same small plane from Charlotte to Beaufort Grove.

He'll be at the gate. He'll at least be at the gate – if she still knows him at all, and Derek has never even come close to missing a flight, just as he's always flown with a copy of the New York Times that he doesn't unfold until his seat belt is fastened, then she'll see him at the gate. But as she walks through the airport, alone on her own path as families corral and comfort children, couples kiss hello and goodbye, she remembers the row of rocking chairs in the Charlotte airport.

The chairs are memorable from all the times she's flown through the busy hub; there's something charming about them, even if they're faux-homey, even if airports are mostly dehumanizing and distressing, and even though Derek hasn't texted or emailed, she assumes she'll find him there.

She recognizes the back of his head, with its looping dark curls, first. But even though Derek has teased her for years that he can always hear her from at least two hallways away because of the distinctive clicking of her heels, he doesn't turn around. Not even as she clicks her way right next to him.

She's calm, or at least she wants to be, but her heart still speeds up to be this close to him after their longest separation since medical school. He smells the same; the outline of his shoulders is the right shape; she bought that coat for him. She has to swallow hard and she's grateful for the oversized sunglasses in her purse. She doesn't want to need them, not today.

But she still might.

She opens her mouth to say his name, to try to get his attention, and then closes it again. Seconds pass, or maybe hours, in silent awkwardness – for her, at least. Derek, in one-quarter profile with most of his face turned away, seems perfectly fine.

Derek always seems perfectly fine.

One of his feet is tapping against the floor, moving the rocker ever so slightly back and forth. His hair is a little longer, she notices – it makes sense; she's the one who books his appointments, every six weeks. He was due for one a few days after he left her and presumably he hasn't taken care of it in Seattle.

"Hi," she says finally for lack of anything better, her voice coming out a little hoarsely as if she hasn't used it in a while, but he still doesn't turn around.

 _Great_.

Moving into his line of vision so he's forced to see her, she points at the empty rocking chair next to him. "Is that seat taken?"

He glances up at her quickly, dismissively. "Yes," he says simply. She has to swallow hard, again, when she sees the coldness in his eyes, but if seeing her affects him there's no sign of it.

"Derek." She sighs, propping a hand on her hip. He's looking at something beyond her; she turns to see it too. They have a good view of one of the runways and a sizeable jet is starting to taxi. She watches it pick up speed and disappear from view before, a few moments later, it roars into the sky.

She pulls the edges of her black fall coat tighter around her. Apparently he's just going to ignore her – _no surprise there,_ a bitter little voice says in the back of her head. She couldn't sleep at all after his unexpected phone call woke her up. Glancing at his familiar profile, she gets the sense that he probably slept just fine.

Frustrated, she glances at her watch. "We should be at the gate in twenty minutes." Her voice sounds higher than usual, and she tries to force it back into register. "Derek, did you hear me?"

"I heard you." He doesn't look at her.

"Are you going to ignore me the whole way to the island?"

No response.

She exhales sharply. "Derek…"

"Twenty minutes?"

She nods.

He pushes up from the rocking chair, keeping his distance from her. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee."

"Get me one too?" She calls after him, half habit and half hope. He doesn't acknowledge her; she slumps down into the seat he just vacated, still warm from his body.

So this is going _great._

She sighs, tipping her head back against the seat and letting the movement of the chair marginally soothe her.

It's the first time she's seen him since the morning after he caught her with Mark. She was still sleeping on the floor of the foyer surrounded by a pile of her mostly-ruined clothing when he opened the heavy front door. _I'm going to go, you stay. I'll come back for my things in the morning._ That's what he had said the night before, and even lying there feeling like her life had come apart at the seams, squinting into the unwelcome stream of sunlight, exhausted from crying and aching from the vomiting that had followed, she found herself amused and depressed that for once he'd actually kept his word.

How many times in the past had he said _I'll come back_ and then just … stayed at work? But she didn't have time to bring that up, all she had time to do was to say his name blearily, once, and then his eyes skated over her like she was a stranger and he just stepped over her prone body, carefully, and walked up the steps. She remembers thinking it might be the last time she felt the heat of his body over hers. By the time she made her way up to their bedroom he'd locked the door. There was a spare key in a glass dish in the library, but she just sat in the hall outside the door instead, uselessly, knees to her chest, waiting for him to come out.

When he emerged from what had been their bedroom, he was dragging a rolling suitcase and he didn't seem to notice her sitting there. _Derek,_ she said his name hoarsely, _are you … can you just tell me where you're going?_ He shook his head. _I don't know yet._ She blinked at that. And then he slipped the gold band off his fourth finger – the one she'd put there, and held it out to her. She just blinked up at him again, not sure what to do; it all felt like a bad dream still. When she didn't take the ring, he crouched down and placed it on the hardwood floor next to her. She reached up instinctually to touch him, to confirm that this was really happening, but only managed to brush the very edge of his cashmere coat. By the time her voice returned and she was finally able to say his name, the front door was closing firmly behind him. She slid his ring – it was still warm from his skin – onto her thumb and lay back down on the floor.

She pushes the rocking chair a little faster. The good thing about travel is the way it keeps you from … _dwelling_ , for lack of a better word. Here, in the rocking chair, unwelcome memories wash over her. She doesn't want to remember the morning Derek left. She certainly doesn't want to remember the night before. And thinking about the eleven years before that makes her stomach hurt.

There's not much in the weeks since her husband left her that doesn't make her stomach hurt, actually.

 _Say hi to Derek for me,_ Mark said before she slid into the cab this morning on her way to the airport, and he was smirking but there was something else under it, real longing and a bit of hurt. He doesn't fool her with his bravado, not often – they're too much alike. She hugged him hard before she left, though – she craves physical comfort in times of stress, another way she and Mark are alike. A dangerous way. _Don't run off with him,_ Mark added and Addison laughed at that, reminding him that Derek loathed her and she'd be lucky if he didn't try to push her out of the plane. They made love one more time before he hailed her the taxi that would bring her to the airport; she cried a little bit, like she used to, like she hasn't for weeks, and he kissed her with surprising gentleness. _Don't run off with him,_ that's what he said while the yawning open cab door waited for her, and the surge of hope at being wanted almost made her turn back from the cab, one hand resting on the yellow door, to cling to him. But she gritted her teeth and slid into the cracked leather seat instead. When she turned to look out the back window Mark was still standing there outside his building, shaded by the navy awning, watching her leave.

She watches a plane take off through the smudged glass and tries to brace herself for what's coming next. When the roar of the jet engines lessens, she hears his familiar footfalls behind her; when she looks up, she sees he's holding two cups of coffee.

Maybe the journey won't be so terrible after all.

 **.-.-.**

He lost three hours flying to Charlotte; that simple facet of American time zones seems symbolic, somehow. The whole East Coast feels like loss to him now. In a few days, when he returns to Seattle – _goes home_ , that's what it will be when he flies west again – he'll get those three hours back. They'll wait for him.

If he's lucky, they won't be the only thing that waits…

Then again, getting Richard to grant him compassionate leave from his job was the easy part; telling Meredith he was flying out of Seattle the next day to mourn the death of someone from the previous life he'd kept from her – that was quite a bit more complicated. Meredith was kind enough, of course, expressing her condolences, not pushing him with questions. Meredith was always kind. Sweet, even. But then she stopped him with a tiny hand on his arm before he could leave the hospital. _Derek … even if I want to, I can't wait forever._ He was confused. _You won't be here, when I get back?_

She shook her head. _I'll be here, Derek. I live here. I'm not closing the door, I'm just … not opening it again, not until you open a little to me._

He closes his eyes briefly now and smells her fragrant hair, feels the warmth of her small body tucked against his. It's just a few days, and then he'll be back, and they can pick up where they left off. He wants to tell her.

Well, that's not true. He _needs_ to tell her, at some point, but how can he tell her that until Weiss's phone call ripped through the middle of his very pleasant night, he had managed to block his wife out of his mind completely?

She stopped existing to him.

Now, as he hears the familiar tap-tapping of her ridiculous shoes, he can tell she's approaching.

She texted him and emailed him about meeting today for their shared flight to the coast – only one missive on each medium, surprising restraint when he thinks about it. He didn't answer either one.

He shouldn't have to see her until the gate, but he can tell by the sound of _her_ gait that she's spotted him and he is, once again, trapped in her sights.

He won't be able to deny her existence much longer, so he savors the remaining moments. And then her formidable shadow crosses his path; her familiar perfume wafts across his face. He continues staring out the window at the planes on the runway. Around him, other passengers chatter and complain, argue and discuss; he remains still in his cone of silence, not acknowledging Addison no matter how much space she takes up.

He doesn't want to see her – doesn't want her to exist – and when he glances at her he remembers why: her perfectly groomed, formal exterior falls away and she's naked again, in his bed. With his best friend. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy, his hand is on the doorknob, and his world is grinding to a halt.

He grinds out as few words as possible now in the hopes that she'll leave him alone, finally staggering to his feet in search of coffee. He keeps his distance from her as he edges away from the strip of rocking chairs; she's taller than him in her highest heels – the ones she wears when she has something to prove – and combined with the winged lapels of her black coat, she resembles an oversized bird of prey.

Carefully, mindfully, he extracts himself from proximity to her claws. Or tries to, at any rate.

She calls after him when he leaves for coffee – _get me one, too?_ – and he entertains a brief, welcoming thought of throwing it in her face. The coffee, and her words. Like she did with their vows.

He forces himself to take a deep breath instead as he lines up at a small coffee stand, trying to get control of himself.

She looks surprised when he returns with two steaming paper cups, her mouth a red-painted circle. "Thanks," she says quietly, taking the proffered cup.

She brings the cup to her lips, then lowers it again. "So … Seattle, huh?"

"Seattle," he confirms mechanically, not meeting her eyes. He stares out at the runway instead, wishing he could board a plane. Any plane. Any plane without his wife, to be clear.

Her voice penetrates his thoughts. "What's in Seattle?"

"…I'm in Seattle."

She's shaking her head impatiently when he glances at her. "You know what I mean, Derek. _Why_ Seattle?"

"Addison…" he presses the fingers of his free hand to his temples. "How about letting me drink my coffee before you start with the third degree."

"Asking my husband why he left Manhattan for the middle of nowhere isn't the third degree. It's more like the first degree."

 _To get as far away from you as possible._

He said it only in his head, or at least he thought he did, but for some reason she looks stricken when he glances at her. She sees that he's looking and quickly brings the cup of coffee to her lips.

Disgust crosses her face as soon as she takes the first sip. "You added milk? Really, Derek." She shakes her head. "You know I can't stand milk in coffee. God, I forgot how petty you can be."

"Only when it's deserved."

Addison stares at him for a moment, starts to turn away, then turns back. "Look, Derek … I know how you feel about me, I get it."

"Good." He gestures around them at the rocking chairs nearest them, taken up by a family with three small children, "because I would hate to have to spell it out in front of all these kids."

Addison blinks at him. "We should … go to the gate."

"Fine," he snaps.

She stalks ahead of him on her noisy shoes, then pauses, seemingly waiting for him to catch up. She looks like she wants to say something, but apparently his face effectively communicates how little he wants to hear it because she closes her mouth without a word.

She doesn't speak again until they're almost at the gate, if you can call it that. It's really just a door, and the plane he sees sitting on the runway doesn't look much bigger than the Land Rover he left back in Seattle.

"That's the plane?"

Addison looks out through the glass. "No, I don't think ours has landed yet. That one's bigger."

 _Bigger._

"Derek…"

He massages the bridge of his nose. The least she could do is leave him alone before they're forced to board the plane together. "What," he says finally.

"Look, what I was trying to say before is … Savvy and Weiss are some of our best friends."

"I know that." He swallows more coffee, wishing he could drink something stronger.

"And you also know how close Sav and her mom were. She and Weiss are going to be going through hell out there, Derek, and the least we can do is show up to support them."

"Isn't that exactly what we're doing?"

"I mean … _show up._ " She sighs when he doesn't respond. "As in, leave our problems on the mainland and actually deal with them as a … couple."

"As a couple," he finds himself laughing. "Really."

"Really," she says, though her tone is uncertain. "Derek…" And she holds up her hand.

"You're wearing the rings." He frowns. "Why are you wearing the rings?"

She shrugs. "They're nice rings."

"Addison, if you think-"

"Really, Derek," she cuts him off, sarcastic, "you really think I planned all this to win you back? Right, I arranged a tragedy and then made sure we'd need a tiny plane to get there, just so you'd fall in love with me again."

He winces at the thought.

"Relax. I just meant I want to be able to be there for them without being clouded by what … well, whatever's going on between us."

"Fine." He stares out the glassed wall at the runway. There's a rumbling from above suggesting another turbo prop plane is landing – presumably theirs. Hopefully the crew won't need much time to turn it over, because he's not sure how much longer he can stand here talking to Addison.

"Derek … there's one other thing I want to, um, to warn you about."

The timbre of her hesitant voice is grating his nerves. "What," he mutters, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"The island is … well, it's very small."

"Yes, I got that impression from the size of the plane."

"No, but…" She stops talking though, mercifully, and is quiet until they open the door to the runway.

It's windy outside, even though the propellers are off, and he holds his coat around him with one hand, keeping his distance from Addison's wildly blowing hair.

He stands back automatically to let her climb the little metal stairs to the plane first; she glances back at him nervously as she does so, perhaps wondering if he's planning something. He considers telling her it would be easier to push her down the stairs if _he_ boarded first, but he decides against it.

The plane is small. Very small. Fourteen seats and a wide open cockpit.

Trying to ignore the twin facts that Addison is standing right at his elbow and that they appear to be the only passengers on this flight, he glances down at his ticket. 2B. Wait a minute…

Addison is already loading her bag into the narrow overhead compartment of the second row. He doesn't offer to help, and notices the blonde flight attendant and the silver-haired pilot both looking at him from the open cockpit with some manner of contempt at his very non-southern manners.

When Addison turns around, he points at the empty row. "You're in 2A?"

She looks at her ticket. "Um … yes."

He shakes his head. "I'm in 2B."

"The travel agent booked the seats…." Her voice trails off as he glares at her, and she slides into her window seat without another word. Derek stalks to the back of the plane, as far from her as he can get – which isn't very far – and slides into the empty last row.

"Sir?"

He glances up at the blonde flight attendant. She's holding the manifest in her hand, and she checks it again, looking a little nervous. "I'm sorry, but that's not your assigned seat."

Derek glances around the empty plane. "So? I mean," he corrects himself, "aren't we the only passengers?"

"Yes," she says, "but I'm still going to have to ask you to take your assigned seat. Security regulations, sir. We can't take off until you do."

She has a honeyed Southern accent that doesn't do much to soften the impact of her words. Derek shifts in his seat, annoyed.

"You can take whatever seat you'd like after we're at cruising altitude, sir," she offers. "But you'll need to sit in your assigned seat again for landing."

"Fine," he says shortly. He tries to keep his tone relatively polite; he knows it's not the flight attendant's fault.

The person whose fault it _is_ is sitting primly in her assigned seat in full view, legs crossed, gaze firmly fixed on her blackberry. Derek stands up with great effort and makes his way up the short aisle.

Addison glances up at him as he approaches, her eyes hidden behind large sunglasses. "Change your mind?"

"No," he says immediately. "Airline regulations changed my mind," he adds, even though she had to have heard his conversation with the flight attendant in this small space, even though she's likely just winding him up. Or trying to, because he's not going to let her get under his skin.

Those days are over now.

"So," Addison turns back to him with a half smile. "What's Seattle like? I hear they have good coffee."

Derek shakes his head at her and doesn't answer, just clicking his seat belt closed and then unfolding his newspaper with great ceremony.

"…but a lot of rain, right?"

Studiously, he continues to ignore her.

"I don't know if I'd like all that rain," she muses.

"Lucky for both of us you'll never have to go there," he says coolly.

Addison doesn't answer for a moment, and he can see she's half-turned again, looking out the window. He taps his foot on the flimsy feeling ground and checks his watch. Will they ever take off so he can change seats?

"Does it get … lonely, in Seattle?"

He glances at her quickly; even with her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses it's clear what she's asking, and his tone is sharp with annoyance when he responds.

"That's none of your business."

"It's a little bit my business," she says in a small voice. "It's not like we're divorced."

"We're separated."

"Actually, right now … I'd say we're together."

He grimaces and looks at the interior of the tiny plane, the barely-there space between their bodies. Unfortunately, she's not wrong. And even if he switches seats after takeoff, this is just the beginning.

They're about to spend far more time than he's comfortable with … together.

The flight attendant passes by again as she checks the mostly-empty cabin a final time, glancing at the Shepherds, who are currently facing away from each other as much as the tiny seats allow.

"Are y'all ready to go?"

 _No … not even close._

* * *

 _ **TBC as they make their way to the island** where adventures await. (Savvy and Weiss will definitely have their voices heard in this story; it's an ... interesting time to be friends with the Shepherds.) This chapter required some setup; I expect future chapters will have more dialogue and less description. Finally ... reviews speed my fingers and bring air conditioning to this hot day! Thank you!_


	3. by the bright riverside

**_A/N:_** Thank you for reading and reviewing! Keep the Addek Revolution going! (See more notes at the end of this chapter)

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _3\. by the bright riverside_

 **.-.-.**

After years of jostling for figurative space, they spend the flight jostling for literal space instead.

The narrow row Derek is forced to share apparently wasn't built with the Shepherds in mind; there's no room for two people approaching six feet to sit comfortably or even cross their legs without unavoidable, unwelcome contact. And Addison being Addison, she has to cross and recross her legs multiple times. The third time the razor-sharp tip of her stiletto bruises his shin he breaks his vow of silence and turns to her with annoyance.

"Can you just sit still for a minute and stop stabbing me with those ridiculous things?"

Addison doesn't say anything, but she does a show of recrossing her legs, forcing him to shove his feet hastily into the narrow strip of rubberized floor that can't really be called an aisle.

"So you're going to be mature about this," he comments, deciding to leave his feet propped in the middle of the plane, daring the flight attendant to tell him it's a safety hazard. He could use a drink. He could use more than one drink, actually, but the sole comfort in the lack of passed champagne is how much Addison is probably dying for a glass even more than he is. He's never known her to be comfortable in anything but first class.

"We've reached cruising altitude," the flight attendant announces from her pull-down seat. There's no need for voice amplification even though the flight is noisy; the attendant is basically sitting in their laps.

This is the signal Derek has been waiting for. But no sooner has he taken blessed relief of his seatmate, shaken out his paper, and read half the front page, when the flight attendant's shadow falls across the broadsheet.

"The Captain has started our descent, sir."

Derek glances up. "But we just…"

"I'll need to ask you to take your assigned seat again."

It takes every ounce of willpower he has not to roll his eyes.

Addison raises her eyebrows at him when he returns to her row. "Back so soon? I knew you would miss me."

"Just move over," he mutters, waiting for her to redirect the dangling weapon she calls a shoe; surprisingly, she does so without protest and just stares out the window. He looks too, as he slides into his seat and clicks his belt shut again.

What he sees is glimmering water. A lot of it. All around them. It's undeniably beautiful, but as the descent turns steep, he starts to wonder about the plan. Unless this is a seaplane, they're getting dangerously close to-

"Are we landing in the river?"

"I sure hope not," the pilot calls from the cockpit, his tone conversational. "But you can take over if you think you can do it better."

This is why cockpits should have doors.

"You are _such_ a backseat driver," Addison mutters through gritted teeth next to him.

"Oh, am I embarrassing you?" Derek raises his eyebrows. "I didn't think you were capable of shame."

She blushes a little bit at this and goes back to staring out the window.

Derek practically levitates when the plane hits the ground and bounces upward, a curse escaping his mouth before he can stop himself. Addison, who seems to have been expecting the jolt, is annoyingly unruffled. He glares at her.

"Welcome to Beaufort Grove," the flight attendant says cheerfully as Derek tries to rub out the crick in his neck that's probably whiplash. "Beautiful landing, Captain," she adds, and Derek could swear he sees her wink.

When the pilot stretches his way out of the cockpit – he's practically too tall for the tiny plane - he gives Derek a very unimpressed look. "Let me help you with those, ma'am," the pilot says warmly to Addison, stepping in front of Derek to unload her bags himself and carry them down the little metal staircase. Derek hastens to grab his own luggage and watches from open door of the plane as the pilot turns and offers a hand to help Addison mince step down the last few stairs.

Again, Derek has to work hard not to roll his eyes. Addison was always good at acting helpless when it suited her. Actually asking for help, when she needed it? Not so much.

"You'll pass on my condolences to Big Randy," the pilot is saying when Derek steps onto the tarmac, holding one of Addison's hands in both of his as Derek watches with mild interest. "And tell the others I'm thinking of them."

"I will, of course I will. Thank you so much, Captain Eaves."

"Beau should be here in a minute," the pilot says, glancing between Addison and Derek. "Do you want me to wait with you, or…"

"No, it's fine." Addison smiles at the pilot, then follows his gaze to Derek. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's just sulking."

Derek glares at her; the sun seems to be glaring back off the hot surface of the blacktop under his feet. He glances around at their surroundings. The airport – more like an airstrip, or maybe just a strip – is tiny, and seems to grow straight from the riverbank at its edges. It's just water, marsh, and then the solid blacktop they're standing on now. Theirs is the only plane; about fifty feet away is a weathered-looking white wood structure with darkened windows. If there's anyone in there he can't see them.

"Sulking?" The pilot shakes his head. "Married to a fine woman like you? He should be appreciating, not sulking."

Derek doesn't bother to hide his eye roll this time. "Addison," he says with exaggerated affection, "did you forget to tell your new friend _why_ I'm sulking?"

"Thank you so much," she says hastily to the pilot. "We won't keep you any longer."

She waits until the pilot has made it most of the way to the little white building before she turns back to Derek. "Get it out of your system now, okay?" Her voice shakes a little. "Just … get it out there. I don't want to upset Savvy, Derek, and you said you would-"

He holds up a hand to stop her. "I know what I said. We're not on the island yet, are we?"

"No," she admits, "but you obviously can't resist a cheap shot."

"Just like you couldn't resist screwing my best friend in my favorite sheets." He pauses and then smiles slightly; he feels a little better already. "Okay, that one should last me a few minutes."

"Those aren't your favorite sheets, Derek-"

"Don't," he interrupts.

"Fine." She turns away from him, then turns back. "Captain Eaves was being _nice._ "

"Excuse me for thinking you can handle your own bags, Addison. You're a world-renowned surgeon, not Scarlett O'Hara."

"Just forget it, Derek. Just … we're not going to do this in front of Savvy and Weiss, you _did_ say…"

"I keep my word, Addison," he stresses _I_ in a way that makes her exhale sharply, clearly getting his meaning.

She pulls her sunglasses down for a minute to stare at him. "Derek-"

But a loud, deep voice interrupts them before she can finish.

"Would you look at what Captain Eaves dragged in!"

Addison turns at the voice. "Beau!"

Derek doesn't recognize the very tall, very blond man striding up to them. He's wearing a blue chambray shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms, khaki shorts and water shoes and he's unencumbered by luggage. He looks, for all intents and purposes, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

" _You_ are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Addie." Derek watches as she steps into the man's offered embrace. He holds her away for a moment and seems to be studying her outfit; with her lightweight black coat thrown over her arm, she's dressed in a fitted black skirt and a black and white blouse. "What's all this you're wearing? You going to a funeral or something?"

Neither Addison nor Derek speaks for a moment.

"Come on, you know Auntie Kate would have laughed at that."

Addison smiles. "That's true, she would have. Beau … I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, honey." He rests a large hand on her shoulder. "Means a lot that you're here."

"Of course."

"Well, there you go." Beau looks her up and down again. "And we're glad to have you, but I don't think those shoes are gonna fly on the island..."

Addison follows his gaze and laughs a little. "Don't worry, I'm changing before we push out." She points to the bag resting on the pavement beside her – or, because it's Addison, resting on those little gold knob things that protect the fabric from touching the runway. God forbid a bag touch the ground.

Derek clears his throat slightly and Addison turns to him. "Sorry. Derek, this is Beau, one of Savvy's cousins – "

When Beau clears his throat this time, Addison smiles and says, "okay, one of Savvy's _best_ cousins, and Beau, this is Derek, my, uh, my husband. You met at Savvy and Weiss's wedding but that was years ago, so..."

Derek looks at the other man with some doubt. Savvy and Weiss's wedding was so long ago now that he can't remember her side of the family other than their being tall, large, and blond, with a lot of interesting nicknames, so he supposes Beau fits the bill.

"Hasn't been so long that I'd forget the prettiest bridesmaid there," Beau says, winking at Addison.

Addison can't seem to help smiling at this, her voice an obviously flattered coo. "Thank you, Beau, but I think we can all agree Augie took that prize."

"Hey now, this is Georgia, not Arkansas," he says, grinning, "so I'll thank you to leave my little cousin out of this."

Derek turns away, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder and wondering if he can convince Captain Eaves to fly him back to Seattle in that tiny deathtrap.

When he turns back to the other two, Beau is looking at Addison with an expression Derek can't identify. "Been a long time since you've seen the island, hasn't it, Addie. Not since-"

"Yes, it's been a while," Addison says quickly, cutting him off. Derek notices her throwing him a glance and a little nod from Beau. He files the information away to consider later; presumably she's doing it to annoy him.

"Well." Addison smiles tightly. "I should go and change before we head out."

Beau nods. "And you, Addie's-husband? You gonna change? No monkey suits allowed on the island."

Derek looks down at what he's wearing – not a suit, but dark slacks and a button-down shirt. He wouldn't have minded wearing jeans, but Addison beat any impulse to dress casually for travel out of him years ago and apparently it's going to take more than a month, even three thousand miles away, for him to be reprogrammed.

"I wasn't planning on it," he admits.

"You're fine," Addison says to him, giving him what he supposes is intended to be a reassuring smile, but most of it drops from her face when she sees his expression. "Don't worry about it. Beau, just – be nice to him while I'm gone."

"Where are you going, anyway?" Derek doesn't see any place to change.

Addison points to the weathered structure Derek noticed early.

"It says flight crew only," Derek notes.

"Not very creative, is he?" Beau doesn't look impressed. "Go on, there's a beautiful powder room just past that door. Captain Eaves wouldn't have it any other way, and I'll keep your husband company."

Derek winces at the thought.

 **.-.-.**

Addison closes the door behind her, heart speeding up. That was close.

The island is going to be difficult. She knew this, she anticipated it, but … there are so many things unsaid between them, some that need to be said and some that, as far as she's concerned, should never be said.

Leaning against the bettered wooden door, she forces her breathing to slow down, remembering that this is just the beginning.

Spending five days in close quarters with her estranged husband – who obviously can't stand the sight of her? It's not like Savvy wouldn't do that for her and more. Not like she hasn't already.

Twisting her rings around her finger, Addison reminds herself that this is about Savvy. It's about her friend. Everything else can wait.

 **.-.-.**

"Now that's more like it!" Beau, who has made nothing more sinister than casual conversation about the weather in her absence, looks up and beams as Addison approaches the two men.

Derek looks up, confused.

The woman standing in front of them looks completely different from the one who met him at the airport: her long hair is piled messily in a clip on the top of her head, she's wearing soft, summery-looking pants that hang loosely almost to the ground, a drapey knit top that leaves most of her arms exposed, and casual flat sandals that lop four inches of height from the amazon who tried to intimidate him at the Charlotte airport. She's holding a large straw hat in her hands; where she was keeping that in her luggage he has no idea, but Addison's packing skills are legendary. He remembers his nieces dragging them into his mother's den at Christmas to watch _Mary Poppins_ and pointing when the singing nanny reached into her carpetbag to pull out one improbably large item after another: _Look, just like Aunt Addie!_

"Doesn't she look lovely?"

Derek glances at Beau, who raises an eyebrow at him.

"The island isn't exactly a stiletto sort of place," Addison says, almost apologetically.

"You could have warned me before I left," he can't help retorting.

"You could have answered my email," she snaps back.

He scowls, annoyed with her for impressing upon him that casual clothes were inappropriate for travel - and annoyed with himself for not being able to shake it. It's one of the things he knows she's retained from her mother's none-too-gentle tutelage in her formative years – cold cream was another; it was old fashioned even in his own mother's time but Addison always refused to use anything else, and he's not blind enough to deny her skin seems happy with it. It's been a revelation to sleep in a bed that's not scented with that light but penetrating fragrance, the same one all sixteen years he slept next to her. She's nothing if not faithful to that stuff.

At least she's faithful to something.

"I hope you packed some other things," Beau is saying, gesturing toward Derek's bag. "There's not much formality on the island. Do you … get outdoors, much?"

"Derek loves to fish," Addison says innocently.

"Do you? Good man." Beau nods approvingly. "We'll be fishing off the island, of course, someone has to feed the hordes of hungry Beauforts."

"Beaufort?" Derek glances at the little wooden sign with peeling paint:

 _welcome to beaufort grove_

Beau turns to Addison. "How much does he know about the island?"

Addison shrugs apologetically, which irritates him, but then everything is irritating him right now as the sun bakes the back of his neck and he wishes he could rip off the shirt he's starting to sweat through. Hopefully it will be cooler on the island.

"I'll give him the basics," Beau promises, "but let's get going."

There's a moment where Derek wonders if he'll seal his fate with the whole extended family by leaving Addison to carry her own bags, but only a moment: Beau takes both her bags and then offers her his arm gallantly. This time, with only Addison looking at him, Derek indulges his desire to roll his eyes and sees the exact moment Addison decides not to stick her tongue out at him.

 _Here's to civility._

His sunglasses mute the strong rays just enough for him to make out the little mahogany boat waiting for them at the end of the wooden dock.

"The runabout," Addison beams. "She looks great."

So Addison _can_ talk about boats, when it suits her.

Beau loads their luggage into the storage under the backseat; then, bracing one foot on the dock, he offers Derek a hand into the boat.

Derek pauses.

Beau shrugs. "I don't mind if you'd rather fall in, if you don't mind getting soaked."

Putting his pride aside, he lets the other man help him into the back seat before Beau turns and all but lifts Addison into the seat beside his. _Showoff_.

"So." Beau turns around. "Before we get going and it gets loud, just the basics: you landed in Beaufort Grove, this is Beaufort Dock, and we're headed out to Beaufort Island."

"I thought it was called-"

"St. Cera's is the name," Beau says patiently, "but that's a long story for another time involving a hurricane and a sacrifice and … let's just say it might as well be Beaufort Island. Beauforts have owned it forever."

"Forever," Derek responds faintly.

"Forever," Beau confirms. "The first Beaufort bought it from King George himself." He grins. "Not the only time a Beaufort bet on the wrong horse, but … can't say the island wasn't a good purchase. It's served us well over the years."

"Is it … settled?"

Beau chuckles. "Depends what you mean by that. Lots of wildlife. Some of it even human. Usually a couple of Beauforts – as needed," and he and Addison exchange a glance at this, "and there's the conservation project and then to raise money and keep things going there's Reeds."

Addison's facing away from him in the front seat, apparently looking out at the river, her posture tense and stiff. Typical, she was never comfortable in nature. For a petty moment Derek hopes their accommodations will be exceptionally spare and rural. He wouldn't mind sleeping in a tent for that.

"What's-"

"We should get going," Beau interrupts. "They're waiting for us. You understand."

And he pulls on the ripcord without another word.

 **.-.-.**

Addison watches Beau's broad, tanned forearm working the controls, gently increasing their speed as the sleek mahogany boat cuts through the water. Cool little droplets fly up and refresh her sun-warmed skin. She closes her eyes for a minute, remembering what it feels like.

"Still love this trip," Beau comments, having to speak loudly over the motor. "No matter how many times we do it."

When she opens her eyes, Beau is smiling at her. "I wasn't more than five the first time my daddy let me drive it myself, sitting on his lap but still helming."

"Savvy always said you were a good driver," Addison smiles back.

"She had to, she begged me to teach her. I don't think Uncle Randy could've lasted five minutes with his baby girl behind the wheel. And then she moved to New York City," and Beau's pronunciation makes clear what he thinks of that decision, "and doesn't even have to drive anymore."

"How's she holding up?" Addison asks the question softly, but he hears her.

"She's strong," Beau says after a moment. "And she's got her whole family around her – or she will, once you get there."

Addison feels tears springing to her eyes. The sheer emotional generosity of Savvy's immediate and extended family never fails to astonish her, even after all these years. She was not-quite-eighteen when she first met them, didn't even realize how parched she was until she started drinking greedily from their seemingly unquenchable stream of love and understanding.

A warm hand touches her arm. "You all right?"

Beau is looking at her with concern she can see even around his sunglasses. His deep, honeyed voice is comforting. Slowly, she nods. Sitting in the front like this just with Beau, the husband who hates her relegated to the back, she almost feels okay. Derek did promise to keep himself in check on the island. So if they can just get through this journey…

Beau slows the boat down as they approach the narrow wooden dock Addison remembers, well-worn posts extending into the sparkling water that carries them, and surrounded by a curtain of low hanging tree branches like a leafy canopy. The sun is too strong to see much past the dock, just the beginning of green and gold bursts of reeds, thick and marshy, giving the entrance to the island an otherworldly look.

"Addie!"

Addison holds a hand up to shade her eyes at the familiar voice and a hazy figure comes into view, the sun making a crown behind her blonde head. Sunglasses obscure most of her face but there's no mistaking their owner. Despite the sad circumstances, despite the guilt that's pulsing through her veins, Addison can't help the instinctual reaction she's always had just to hear her name in that welcome tone: her mouth curves into a smile.

"Addie and Derek!" Savvy holds out both her arms toward the approaching boat. "You made it!"

… _that's one way to put it._

* * *

 _ **A review is worth a thousand words!** (and this story is a lot longer than that). More questions raised, I know, but this is only chapter three. I'm really enjoying exploring this particular time in the Addek marriage. Next chapter up soon!_

 ** _Patsy -_** _in response to the question in your review: no, I've never written under another name, and those aren't my stories - but that's so funny about the Georgia island! My island moved around a fair bit, and I only settled on Georgia last minute for climate reasons, so any barrier island will do. Are you the Patsy who read and commented on When I Grow Up? Either way, this story is Addek, but I will definitely be writing more MerDer in the near future, especially my favorite brand (MerDer and Maddison with their progeny) so I hope you'll stay tuned._

Title from _I'll Meet you in the Morning_ by Albert E. Brumley


	4. when the gates open wide

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed - if you're anonymous, I can't PM you, so just accept a big internet hug and pretty please keep it up. Let's be real here: I have an inordinate amount of time to write and post right now and I want to continue on warp speed, but encouragement is the fuel I need to make my fingers fly. So. Asking for patience as I get us set up here for what's to come. Back to the story, where we last saw Our Heroes in a boat approaching the island together...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _4\. when the gates open wide_

 **.-.-.**

It's different.

That's Derek's first thought, as the boat gently taps the wooden supports and Beau hops out with practiced ease to get her docked. The island is ... different.

Different from what he expected – though he's not really sure what he expected – and different from any place he's seen before. Their final approach appears to lead them into dense, lush … _nature,_ for lack of a better word, the rich estuary waters pushing them toward a narrow wooden dock surrounded by gently waving plants.

He has equal sensations of smallness and vastness all at once: golden reeds marching along the shore, sand and low-hanging leaves lining the paths. Vegetation is everywhere, climbing the rough-hewn logs making up the only outbuilding structures he can see and hugging the banks. The air smells fresh, like green things growing. It's luxuriously quiet except for the lapping sounds of water and the contented calls of birds and insects.

When Derek pictured Addison on the island, it was more of a resort. This ... nature retreat, this secluded place of beauty, doesn't seem like her style. Strange.

Beau helps Addison out of the boat first, setting her gently on the dock, and Derek watches as she throws her arms around Savvy.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he can hear her murmuring and he tries not to think about the last time he heard Addison apologize.

Derek doesn't object to Beau's proffered hand this time.

Addison releases Savvy when Derek makes landfall on the dock and he's next to hug her. "I'm so sorry, Sav."

"How are you holding up?" Addison rests a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know it must be..."

"...tough. It's tough." Savvy sighs. "It was so fast, and I wasn't ... but then you're never ready, are you?"

Derek shakes his head in agreement.

Savvy looks from one of them to the other. "It means a lot that you're here. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank us," Addison says quickly. Derek stifles his automatic response: _D_ _on't say us. There is no us._

There _was_ an us – there was DerekAndAddison, for a third of their lives, but she drove a stake through that and she shouldn't get to say _us._

But he promised he'd play the role, and Savvy's eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks flushed; she's grieving, the least he can do is not make it about them, so…

"We want to be here," Derek assures Savvy, "of course you don't have to thank us," and he's glad she can't read his face enough to see what's underneath his sympathetic half-smile. Savvy squeezes one of each of their hands in response.

"I'm staying over in the old cottages with Bos and the others, but you'll be in Reeds."

Addison nods.

"Reeds?" Derek's eye is drawn to the omnipresent golden and green reeds along the shore. He did say he'd like to see Addison roughing it, but…

"Reeds," Savvy says, "is a little Beaufort project that keeps the conservation team going. It's small but it's comfortable, and – oh, there he is, I told him you were coming in," and she turns, stretching out an arm to the familiar figure walking toward the dock.

Weiss is dressed casually and for the heat in shorts and a lightweight shirt, sunglasses protecting his eyes. He pushes them up when he gets to Savvy and studies her face briefly before pulling her into his arms.

"Weiss, you saw me five minutes ago," she protests, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "Don't you want to say hello to Addison and Derek?"

"Sure," he says amiably, "but I can't help it I only have eyes for you."

Savvy rolls her eyes but looks a little pleased.

Weiss is embracing Addison now. "Thanks so much for coming, Addie."

He clasps Derek's hand and pulls him in for the time-honored manly one-armed hug. "Trip go okay?" he asks quietly, for Derek's benefit only, it seems, but they break apart before he can answer.

Weiss gestures toward the luggage sitting on the dock. "You need a hand?"

"No, I've got it." Derek heads for the bags Beau left lying on the dock – and can't help noticing Beau took Addison's bags with him and set them neatly on the sagging wooden bench closest to the sandy path. Beau lifts a hand in acknowledgement as they approach; he's sitting in the boat again now doing ... something.

"I hope Beau's not staying at Reeds," Derek can't help muttering to Addison, who is following him for some reason as he drags his luggage down the dock.

"You don't like Beau either? First Captain Eaves, now Beau? Maybe you just don't like anyone with good manners."

"Good manners! He was all over you." He looks at her dismissively. "Maybe he heard you were … on the market."

"Derek," she grits, "we're on the island now, and you said-."

"But no one can hear us."

"I can hear you, actually," Beau says pleasantly, standing closer than Derek realized. "but don't worry about it. So … I'll just tie her up and then I'll be going…"

"Thank you so much for bringing them." Savvy tucks her arm through his.

"Oh, the pleasure was mine. It was a real experience," he says, and Derek clenches the hand in his pocket.

A child's voice cuts through the quiet nature sounds before he can respond.

"Daddy, I wanted to come with you!"

Derek turns to see a group of towheaded children running through the reeds onto the dock, followed a few paces behind by a woman he presumes is their mother.

"Aw, I would've loved to have you, Tuck, but that would have been a real tight squeeze with both our friends here." Beau smiles at the little boy, still squatting to finishing docking his boat, as more children flock around him, each blonder than the next. "You can help me get her all set, though, bud. Come over here and give me a hand."

"All these are yours?" Derek asks doubtfully when Beau has stood up.

"Lily helped a little," he acknowledges, and a slender, barefoot blonde woman in a long sundress reaches out to swat him in response; he grabs her hand before she can do it again and pulls her in for a kiss.

"Yuck," one of the little boys says, and Beau cuffs him lightly on the back of the head, laughing.

"Lil," Savvy smiles, "you've met Addie and Derek but it's been a long time." She makes the introductions.

"You're Beau's wife," Derek acknowledges.

"Fifteen years now," Lily smiles.

Beau nods in agreement. "That one's Beau Junior, the one over there is Christopher …

"How do you do," he says politely.

"…the only one with manners, apparently, Isaac … Tucker, the one holding the ropes… and down here we have Miss Avery."

He points to a tiny blonde girl with a head of curly hair.

Addison is smiling at the tiny child. "Hi there."

"Hi! Did y'all bring me a present?" she asks sweetly.

"Ignore her." Beau rolls his eyes, scooping the child up and turning her upside down, producing much shrieking glee. "She's spoiled just this side of rotten because _someone_ insisted we keep trying 'til we got our baby girl."

Based on the way Beau is now covering her small face with kisses, it's not hard to see that.

"I don't remember you complaining when we were trying, Beau," Lily says, laughing as she corrals the two smallest boys.

"Five children and a figure like that. It's totally unfair." Savvy shakes her head.

"Who's complaining about your figure? It certainly wasn't me." Weiss wraps an arm around her. "I have no complaints. None."

Beau glances around. "Where are the others?"

"Daddy's in the patch," Savvy says. "Bos is out fishing with Tom and Wils, Augie and Millie are doing some of the preparations over at the boil – Morgan too – and … "

The unfamiliar names wash over Derek without taking up much residence in his brain. There's too much in his brain already, coated the thick, sweet scent of the island – as unfamiliar as the rich flora surrounding him.

Savvy looks exhausted, he notes, she's leaning against Weiss, who's playing absently with a strand of her hair while he supports her. Weiss glances over at Derek with an expression he can't quite read.

"You must be exhausted from your trip," Savvy murmurs, glancing at Addison.

"We're fine, Sav." Addison touches her arm. "It's you we're worried about."

Beau and Savvy exchange a glance. "Let's get your friends settled," Beau suggests. He glances at Derek. "Reeds is down that path, along the curve, fronting the river."

"Isn't this…"

"This is another river." Beau smiles. "That's how we get all this fine wildlife that we're duty-bound to protect. Speaking of which … I think it's time to get out there for some fishing. Boys – who's in?"

They respond enthusiastically.

He turns to address his oldest. "You want to fish?"

"Yes, sir," he says quickly.

"Then go and run Miss Addie's bags over to Reeds – riverfront side, and be sure to leave 'em in the shade."

The teenager nods and hefts the bags onto his bag.

"Chris, you help him," Beau instructs. "And then both of y'all come meet us at Thompson dock so we can catch some dinner. Tuck and Isaac, come on with me," he holds out his hand to beckon the two smaller boys.

"We're coming with you too," Lily smiles. "Avery wants to wave while you're steering out. We'll see y'all later?" She glances from Addison to Derek.

Beau leans over and kisses Savvy on the cheek. "I'll see you in a little bit, sugar. Take good care of her," he says to Weiss, who nods as Beau claps him on the back.

Beau turns, a small blond boy hanging on to one of each of his hands now, and focuses his gaze on Addison.

"You need anything, you let me know," he says, his tone firm. "You remember that."

Derek can't tell if it's a command: _you better remember that,_ or a reminder: _you probably remember that._ Then he decides he's looking too much into it.

"Derek."

He glances at Beau upon hearing his name.

"Watch out for rattlesnakes," he says simply. "Okay, we're clearing out!"

Derek watches them disappear down the path; Savvy leans in close to whisper something to Addison, who smiles and then whispers something back; most of Addison's updo came apart on the boat, and with their heads close together long strands of her red hair are mingling with equally long strands of Savvy's blonde hair, tossed gently in the breeze rolling off the water.

"Those two and their secrets," Weiss looks at him and for a moment it's like no time has passed at all, they're out to dinner at the bistro exactly halfway between their homes and Savvy and Addison are leaning away from the table to whisper like schoolgirls. _Be nice or I'm going to sit in between you,_ Weiss warned them teasingly and Savvy just grinned at him, _nothing can come between us, we had each other before we had the two of you._

Then reality crashes into him and he remembers that they're not DerekAndAddison meeting up with SavvyAndWeiss. He's just Derek now, who wants nothing more than to get away from _just Addison_ after the tense journey from Charlotte.

"I'll take you over to Reeds," Savvy is saying now. "Get you settled in, and then I'm going to find my cousins for-"

"You don't have to host us, Sav," Addison interrupts gently. "You have so much to do. We'll make our way in."

"Yeah? You remember how to –"

"I remember."

"If you're sure." Savvy glances at Weiss. "Honey, can you run after Beau and find out which dock they're fishing off?"

"I thought he said Thompson."

"But can you double check?" Savvy leans up to kiss him on the cheek. After Weiss has started off down the sandy path, she produces an old-fashioned metal key on a worn-looking leather strap and hands it to Addison. There's a brass pendant dangling from it with an inscription, but Derek can't see the words. He can't help noticing it's just one key.

Savvy glances at him. "We're tight for space – more people than room, but if it's a problem I can try to reshuffle or –"

"Of course it's not a problem," Addison interrupts. "And we don't want to make any more work for you … right, Derek?"

"Right," he says quickly. "It's fine, Savvy, don't worry."

"Okay. That's a relief." Savvy gives them a shaky smile.

"Red Fox," Addison reads from the key tag. "I can't remember which one that is."

"It's a nice one," Savvy promises. "Perfect for Red and her fox," she adds, and Derek finds himself wincing slightly, forcing himself not to show his discomfort.

"You sure you two will be okay if I don't walk you in?"

"Of course, Sav, we know how much you have going on right now." Addison hugs her. "You tell _us_ if you need us, okay? I guess you can even text us now that …"

"… the cell tower." Savvy rolls her eyes. "I know. It was a _huge_ concession but it did so much for the conservation team … well, I'll explain it all later. It even works most of the time, except in bad weather."

They all glance around; the weather today is nothing short of glorious.

They exchange hugs again - Derek notices Savvy's gaze lingering on his left hand as they break their embrace - and then she meets Weiss at the end of the dock and they start off on the sandy path together, their arms around each other.

Bird calls are the only sound interrupting the awkward silence that remains on the dock. Addison is shifting her weight from one atypically flat sandal to the other. "So, you want to, um…"

"Fine," he says shortly. "You know how to get there?"

She nods.

Derek glances at her. "You've stayed at this place before?"

"No. Well, yeah … sort of."

He shakes his head slightly. Nothing can be simple with her.

"Let's just go put our bags…" he looks at her, remembering her bags are already wherever they're staying, and her hands are empty.

"Want me to take one of yours?"

She's smiling a little, looking almost mischievous – an expression that might have been endearing if not for the nausea that tugs at him when he sees her face.

Ignoring her question, he sets off down the sandy path she pointed to earlier. He doesn't both to look to see if she's following him, but he hears the familiar cadence of her footfalls behind him as he makes his way toward their … room.

Singular.

 _Great._

 **.-.-.**

"I should go see if Cammie got here yet."

"Sit a bit longer first." Weiss tugs gently on her hand and she folds back into the wooden porch swing, settling on the faded flower-patterned cushion.

"There's so much to do."

"I know," he says soothingly, "but you need to rest, too. And anyway … Cammie did get here, about an hour ago."

"She did? How did you –"

Weiss nods. "I've been keeping track on my spreadsheet."

"Very funny."

"No, Sav, I'm serious – look," and he reaches into the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulls out an actual spreadsheet.

He nudges her with his shoulder. "Are you laughing or crying?"

"Both," she admits, leaning into him. "Weiss … I couldn't do this without you."

"You'll never have to. Remember the rings?"

He holds his left hand up, his wedding band glinting in the sunlight, and she smiles through her tears.

"It's a lot, babe." He sighs, rubbing her bare arm. "I know it's good to see everyone too, but … it's a lot. You can take a break whenever you need. You got it? That's what I'm here for."

"I know … thank you," she says softly.

"I thought love meant never having to say thank you."

"I think the actual quote is _love means never having to say you're sorry_ and it's kind of terrible advice."

"Ooh … you're right about that."

Savvy leans against her husband in the swing, tucking her legs up underneath her. Weiss lightly pushes off from the weathered boards of the porch, keeping them moving. She's flush with too many feelings to separate right now: love, gratitude, for Weiss but also for her family, knowing the pain of saying goodbye is proportionate to the joy of having had her mother in her life at all. All wrapped up in the numb exhaustion of the past few weeks - and the fear tugging at the corners of her mind.

"Honey …" she says tentatively.

"Yeah," he's smoothing her hair. It's so rare to be alone with Beauforts everywhere on the island right now, and she wants to take advantage of the moment. "I asked my secretary to call me, when she gets them."

"Okay," he says gently.

"Tuesday. It should be Tuesday."

"Okay."

"I need to take the call, Weiss. When it comes."

"I know, babe. I understand."

She feels her breathing start to speed up and he pulls her closer, soothing her with the strength of his body against hers.

"Let's not talk about this now, hm?"

"Are you upset with me?" Her voice shakes a little, leftover emotions, the fear of the last few weeks.

"Of course not, Sav, it's just … you just already have a lot to think about."

"Yeah." She leans against him again. "Weiss … Addison and Derek came."

"You knew they would."

"Yeah, but they came together." She pulls back a little to see her husband's face. "That's a good sign, right?"

"I guess so."

"Derek didn't look too happy, though."

"Well, they did come here for a funeral," he can't seem to help joking and she gives him a gentle shove; she, in turn, can't help smiling a little. It was Weiss's sense of humor above all – a little black, a little blue, much like those of her brother and cousins – that she thinks ended up endearing him to her family.

"Sorry." He gives her a squeeze. "I don't know, Sav."

She sighs, picturing Derek's face, the set of Addison's shoulders. Which just makes her think of the last time …

"If Derek knew," she starts, her voice trailing off before she can finish.

"Honey … it's not our place."

"They're some of our best friends."

"I know."

"And they're going through something terrible."

"You're worrying about them when they came out here just to worry about you," he shakes his head; she feels the movement against her hair. "You're something else, Sav."

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

"Good." He rubs her bare arm. "I love when your choices don't leave me in the dog house. It's so rare."

"It's just … they're both here," she says softly. "Derek's on the island, Weiss. I just … have a feeling."

He doesn't say anything.

"They're talking, at least," she says, then realizes she's not sure she saw them exchange any words on the dock. "Or they'll have to talk to each other at Reeds, anyway," she muses.

"You put them in one room, didn't you."

"I had to, honey, you know the place only sleeps twenty."

"Mm-hm. Which room did you give them, anyway? Marsh Rabbit? Muskrat? "

She doesn't answer.

"Sav…"

"Red Fox," she admits finally, "and that's because the Cobbs wanted Muskrat and Uncle Hank-"

"Savannah," he says with mock severity, "there are other rooms at Reeds besides Muskrat with two beds."

She doesn't answer.

He pauses, maybe trying to remember the rooms. "Wait, which one is Red Fox? Is it the room with the-"

"Maybe."

For a moment she thinks he'll actually be annoyed with her but she can feel the slight movement of his torso that suggests he's laughing a little.

"Sav, if Derek and Addison are going to work it out, they need to work it out themselves," he says after a few moments, gently. "On their own, not because they fall for one of the patented Beaufort Parent Trap tricks." He pauses. "What's the name of that gang of yours again?"

She smiles a little bit at this. "The Four Beausketeers," she admits, feeling him laughing against her. "And you know it. We don't do those things anymore now that we're grown up." He could protest, but he doesn't, so she continues. "Anyway, you have to make your own fun on the island, you know that too."

"Oh, I do. We've made a lot of … fun on the island ourselves."

"True."

"Does making me run naked along the beach while your cousins laugh at me count as fun?"

"That's family tradition, honey!"

"Yes, but you guys were toddlers when you did it. I was … not."

"Well, you joined the family a little later."

"Yeah, I did." He pulls her against him again, stroking her hair. "It was worth a little humiliation to get your father to agree to let me propose."

"That's sweet." She rests her head against his chest.

"Honey … Beau threw those pictures out, right? He said he was going to keep them until our tenth anniversary."

"Um …" Savvy toys with the strap of her husband's watch. He traps her fingers and folds them into his. "Hey, look over there! Some of the guys are fishing. You could join them."

He just leans back against the swing, taking her with him and pushing them off again. "I'm going to find those pictures someday."

"If you do, I want copies." She smiles into the fabric of his shirt. "Mm, young Weiss…"

"I would stop right there if I were you," he warns teasingly, fingers brushing along her ribs and making her laugh.

Then she rests her head against him again, pensive.

"It's okay to laugh," he says gently. "You know, laughter is …"

"…better than liquor," she finishes for him. "Honey, sometimes you sound like a real Beaufort."

"I'm flattered."

They rock in silence for a while. She feels the slightly nubbly texture of his shirt under her fingers, the solid warmth of his shoulder as she leans back, fixing her gaze outward. Just touching him is comforting. Just his arms.

"Weiss…"

"Hm?"

"They showed up. Addie and Derek, I mean."

"They showed up," Weiss agrees quietly. "They showed up for you."

"Yeah, for me." Savvy stretches slightly, looking out at the golden reeds stretching their way to the gently lapping sea. "Does it count as showing up if it's showing up for me?" She pauses, then answers her own question. "I guess it's something, anyway…."

Weiss doesn't say anything, but she feels the press of his lips to the top of her head as they both watch the little white blot of a fishing boat bobbing up and down in the water.

* * *

 _TBC. Please let me know what you think! Also, I'll admit it, I just love Savvy and Weiss. And I don't think I've met an Addek who doesn't. We may have only spent one episode with them, but they managed to make quite an impression. I'm excited to spend more time with them ... they may be the only people as invested in Addison and Derek as we are!_

Title from _I'll Meet you in the Morning_ by Albert E. Brumley


	5. glad and happy when we meet

**A/N:** Thank you thank you thank you for continuing to read. Keep it up 'cause it makes me speedy when you're read-y. And poetic, too. Now, back to the Island show, currently in progress... (And thank you **Em68** for a line from you that you will recognize; couldn't resist...)

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _5\. glad and happy when we meet_

 **.-.-.**

Addison already feels uncomfortable trying to work the old-fashioned key into the lock while Derek's glare bores holes in her back and the sun beats into her hair.

And then the door swings open ... and it doesn't get much better.

Their room at Reeds is large and airy, with wide weathered floorboards and a graceful ceiling fan, but she can't help wincing when she sees there's only one the bed, covered in a sea green and white quilt, right in the middle of the room like it's laughing at them.

Derek brushes past her and then stops when he sees the décor, grimacing.

"At least it's … a queen, I think?" Addison studies the bed nervously.

"It looks more like a full. If that."

"Derek…"

"Forget it. You can take the bed and I'll sleep on the…" she sees the moment he notices there's no actual couch, just a series of assorted, mismatched pieces of antique-looking furniture, from a small brocade loveseat to a thinly padded marriage bench. No couch, and nothing long enough for even a curled up adult body.

Addison gestures toward the weathered floorboards. "There's always the floor."

"Why don't you sleep on the floor, then," he snaps.

"Derek … is it because I've been hanging around Savvy's family, or have you always been this much of a ... giver?"

He raises his eyebrows. "You want favors from me, after what you did?"

"No, not favors, I just…."

Her voice trails off. She doesn't know how to finish the sentence, she doesn't know how to be around Derek without being reminded of what a terrible person she is – which he's only too glad to do at any opportunity – so she just opens her bag for lack of anything else to do.

Being in this room with him is strange, uncomfortable in a way she didn't predict. They've stayed in so many hundreds of hotel rooms; even though they're fighting, she notices they've automatically taken the same sides they always do in hotels – that is, the opposite sides they take at home. She's already started unpacking, and finds herself leaving every other drawer in the bureau for Derek instinctually.

She starts to feel a little calmer as she unpacks; organizing has always done that for her, or maybe it's because Derek is keeping his distance over by the dusty bookshelves, jabbing at his phone.

"What are you doing?"

She jumps a little at his sharp tone and draws her hands back like she's been burned. It's not until she glances down to see what's angered him that she realizes her hands are in his suitcase. She's been unpacking for him, automatically, like she always does in hotel rooms when she's done unpacking her own bags.

"I'm sorry," she takes a step back, feeling her cheeks flush. "It was just … forget it." She turns away, swallowing hard.

Staring around the room for something to take her attention off how much Derek hates her, she notices a reassuring sign of modernity is a small refrigerator tucked under an antique table. Is that?

She opens it to find that it _is_ , and she exhales a grateful sigh.

"What is _that_?" Derek is looking too, at a series of mason jars – there must be a dozen – filled with clear liquid.

Addison almost laughs. "It's white lightning. Savvy's family has been making this recipe for ages. They say it's better on the island because of the-" She stops talking, having a strong feeling Derek would either laugh or sneer at the phrase _magical properties_ and she's not sure she can handle the latter.

Derek just studies the contents of the refrigerator.

"Moonshine, huh?"

She nods.

"Is it strong?"

She nods. "Very."

"Good," he says grimly, and turns his back, with no need to elaborate. _We're going to need it._

She sits down on the side of the small bed, pulling out her phone, which has vibrated several times in the last few minutes as, presumably, it hits the island's newly added tower.

"Do you mind?" She sees she's sat on the strap of his bag without noticing.

"Sorry, I was just … " she turns her phone toward her as Derek approaches.

"Texting Mark?"

 _How could he know that?_

And then she realizes her miscalculation immediately; he was just throwing stuff at the wall to see if it would stick.

But it's too late, because he can read her face and she sees the moment _he_ figures it out too.

"You're _unbelievable_." He shakes his head. "You're still screwing him. That's who you were with the night I called you?"

"Derek, you left me," her voice trembles and she forces it to steady.

"With good reason." His tone is clipped, dismissive, but she stands up anyway, wanting to be taller to face the anger she assumes is coming.

"What about you?" She feels reckless, ready for offense as her best defense. She's never been good at standing still while he tears her apart and yet…

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, who is she?"

"Addison, either start making sense or stop talking to me. …preferably the latter," he adds in a mutter designed for her to hear.

"Who. Is the girl. You're seeing." She enunciates the words carefully and coolly.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Derek, you're obviously seeing someone. What else would have you checking your phone like a drug dealer?"

He doesn't answer.

"Are you saying you _don't_ have a girlfriend in Seattle?"

"Like a drug dealer …" He mimics her words, shaking his head. "Nice, Addison. And yes. As a matter of fact I'm seeing someone. Not that it's any of your business."

"…oh."

That's all that comes out of her mouth – so much for a good offense.

She shouldn't be surprised, right? She goaded him into admitting it, after all. Or was she, like Derek, just taking shots to see what would stick? Now that it's out in the open she feels deflated, confused.

It makes sense, and yet … for some reason it makes her feel uncomfortable. Derek is seeing someone.

She tries to picture this girl and can only see a faceless woman – she adds scrubs, because Derek can't have changed so much that he ever leaves the hospital long enough to meet someone outside of work – and long hair, since Derek is predictable, but the face remains a vague blur. Then she sees Derek kissing the blurry-faced woman; sees them pulling each other into on-call rooms, laughing against the wall, looking at each other across a draped body in the OR.

Something small and sad stirs within her at the last thought.

Which is silly, because Derek has made it perfectly clear how he feels about her, and Mark is waiting for her in New York. She takes a deep breath; she needs bravado, needs it fast or she'll cry even if there's no reason to.

"So, tell me about your girlfriend."

"Addison … drop it."

"Derek, I'm just asking-"

"We're not talking about this."

"Come on, I asked nicely."

" _Addison_." His tone is very close to losing patience.

"Derek," and her plaintive tone embarrasses her a little, "you _did_ say that we'd try to get along on the island. We're supposed to be getting along for Savvy and Weiss."

"Savvy and Weiss aren't here."

She sighs, suddenly very tired.

"Addison," his voice is calm, rather dangerously so, and he's back in her airspace. "You and Mark … in _my_ house?"

"You mean the house you left without a word?" His face is so dark she actually takes a small step back. "No," she says quickly, and it's true; she hasn't been able to bring herself to touch Mark in the brownstone since that night.

Derek just turns on his heel and heads for the door anyway.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he says simply, "and I suggest you don't follow me."

The door slams smartly behind him

 **.-.-.**

Directly outside the door, their room opens onto a ground-level patio area held up with local-wood beams, a porch swing and plants helping themselves to wall space. From there it's a matter of steps down through the reeds to a deserted strip of sandy beach; he avoids that direction.

He just walks with no real purpose in mind other than putting space between himself and Addison.

Not so unlike the morning he drove away from Manhattan, he realizes.

It doesn't matter that she admitted she's still sleeping with Mark. A part of him knew all along, realized she wasn't in an on-call room when he caught her in the middle of the night to deliver the news about Savvy's mother. He has a new life in Seattle. A better life.

So it doesn't matter.

Aimlessly, he follows the path they came in on. It's so quiet here, peaceful, at odds with the thumping of his heart and the pulsing of angry blood in his veins. He's not angry – he has no reason to be angry – but he's tired of looking at her.

Eventually, he runs into the reeds near the dock. Past it, the direction he watched Beau and his gang of merry blonds, there's a curving dirt path. He follows it to a small clearing. Trees hang low around a roughly-shaped circle, there's a stone fire pit and graduated logs serving as benches. It's serene, nothing but nature sounds and-

And people approaching from the opposite direction.

"Derek." Savvy waves at him as she crosses the dirt path, her hand tucked into the large bare arm of a tall blond man. "You found us."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're never interrupting," she says fondly. "Welcome to the hearth; it's one of my favorite spots on the island. Derek, you remember my brother, Boswell, I know you've met a few times. Bos, Derek is Addie's husband."

Boswell, who has a trimmed blond beard and faded red shorts, gives Derek a look he's not sure how to interpret – but it doesn't scream _welcome_.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Derek says, extending his hand to shake. Boswell stares at it for a moment, then takes it for the briefest of squeezes and a quick nod of acknowledgement.

So much for the southern manners that have Addison so enamored.

Savvy smiles at Derek, not seeming to notice her brother's strange behavior. "Where's Addie, anyway?"

 _I don't know and I don't care?_

"Uh, back at the room, I think."

Savvy gives him a look of concern. "The room's all right?"

"It's fine, Sav, it's great. Don't worry about us, you have enough going on."

She smiles at him gratefully. "Ooh, let me just tell Addie that we're all down here, Bos is dying to see her." She reaches into her small straw bag and withdraws a cell phone. "And now that we can text … "

"Oh, sis, texting on the island?" Bos grimaces. "Well. I guess it's okay if it means Addie's coming, though."

Savvy smiles at him.

So much for getting away from Addison. Derek tries to gesture his way out of the area without being too obvious. "I should be getting…"

"Hang on," Savvy motions to him. "Oh, good, she's already heading out this way."

Derek glances back and forth between Savvy and the sandy path that would take him out of here. The time for decision passes quickly.

Addison, who is fast on heels, is apparently lightning speed in her sandals because she arrives quickly and a little breathlessly, giving Derek a nervous look.

Before either of them can acknowledge each other, Bos is swooping in.

"Addie, look at you!"His hug lifts her off her feet and he turns in a full circle, whirling her around with him. He scans her face once he's set her gently back down on her feet.

"How long has it been?" He shakes his head.

Addison smiles at him. "Too long."

"You're damn right it's been too long. Look at you, baby girl, you're beautiful." He pauses. "You still wearing that retainer at night?"

She laughs. "No. Not anymore."

"Okay, good."

 **.-.-.**

It's good to see Bos and Addie together. Really, really good.

It makes her heart feel warm, and she needs that, because her heart has been a squeeze of fear and pain for the last two weeks.

Her brother and her dearest friend are smiling at each other now, joking around like they used to.

"Montgomery," he's teasing her and Addison corrects him, looking a little sheepish.

"Actually … it's Shepherd now."

"Shepherd?" Boswell, who should be well aware of Addison's married name, looks from Addie to Derek. "As in … big fan of sheep?" Bos studies Derek again, appraisingly, this time. "Yeah, you know … I can definitely see it."

"Bos," Savvy says reprovingly, resting her hand on his arm. Her brother and his runaway tongue. Addie shoots them both a nervous look.

"Wait … the two of you …?" Derek seems to pick up on what's unspoken in the air. "You've got to be kidding me."

"It was ages ago, years before I met you, Derek, is that all right with you?" Addie's voice sounds a little shaky. With good reason, too, and Savvy wonders if she should intercede.

"Oh sure, I don't mind if you sleep with people before we're married. It's when you sleep with people _while_ we're married that I mind."

Bos's face darkens at this. "You know what? I don't think I like the way you're speaking to her. That's no tone to use with a lady."

"Well, she's not a lady," Derek says pleasantly. "So there's no need for concern."

Boswell takes a menacing step forwards.

 _Oh, brother._

Literally, that is.

Savvy rests a hand on Bos's arm again, a little more firmly this time. "Bubba, please. It's fine; it's just … how Derek is. He doesn't mean it. Right, Derek?"

Derek gives her an apologetic look and she grants him a small smile. So much for working it out. Well, she'll get Addie alone soon enough and figure out what's going on.

Bos just fixes Derek with a hard stare, then turns to Savvy.

"Let's go, baby girl, before I forget my manners."

He holds out an arm and Savvy links her hand through it, giving the Shepherds an apologetic look over her shoulder. Savvy turns back halfway down the path and sees Addie and Derek still standing there, apparently watching the siblings walk away. Savvy can't help but notice that for two people who supposedly can't stand each other, their postures are uncannily similar.

 **.-.-.**

"What happened to Southern manners?"

"You're the rude one." She glares at Derek, who turned on her as soon as Savvy and Bos were out of earshot. "Derek, you said you'd be civil on the island. You upset Savvy."

He actually looks a little sorry, for once. "You know I wasn't trying to upset her."

"I know, it's okay." She finds herself wanting to smooth things over, to make things all right for him. It's a hard habit to break.

Turning her gaze, she stares out at the water. She can see a few smudges moving along in the blue, fishing boats, and for a moment she envies them their freedom. She feels frozen, her feet unwilling to leave the hearth but dreading going back to the shared room at Reeds where Derek's cold disgust with her permeates everything.

Derek's not moving either, his hands deep in his pockets, looking out at the water.

"What do you think of the island?" Her voice is tentative, and he doesn't answer.

Right. No small talk permitted.

But arguing is allowed, so she moves into his line of vision, forcing him to look at her instead of the water, daring herself to poke an open wound.

"So, is that why you picked Seattle? It wasn't random?"

"Excuse me?" He glances at her, annoyed, then looks away again.

"Is _she_ why you moved out there to Seattle? This girl you're seeing. You knew her before?"

Derek shakes his head. "I think you have us mixed up, Addison. You're the one who breaks the wedding vows, not me."

She lets the words sting her. She'll take this back and forth over nothing, over being alone with her thoughts, so she props a hand on her hip and glares at him.

"Fidelity isn't the only vow, you know."

He turns back, biting at the line she dropped. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means you also took vows, Derek, and one of those was to love me."

"Oh, that's your side of the story? I didn't love you enough?" He laughs mirthlessly. "That's what you were thinking about when you got naked with my best friend?"

"You know what? Forget it." Her voice shakes. "So …" she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "What's her name, anyway?"

He shakes his head with disgust. "Give it up, Addison."

"Isn't that your job?"

He glares at her now.

"I _said_ we would be civil for Savvy," he snaps back. "For Savvy, not for you. And I have been civil, for that whole parade of … confederacy centerfolds you've slept with."

She inhales sharply. He doesn't understand, he can't –

"I never slept with Beau," she protests shakily.

"Now's your chance, then. Lucky you."

"Derek, he's married."

"Well, so are you, technically speaking, but that didn't stop you the last time."

Blood rushes to her cheeks and she thinks she'll be the one now to turn on her heel and storm off except that she sees a familiar figure heading toward the hearth – and all she has time to do is hiss a quick _be nice_.

 **.-.-.**

"What's going on with those two?" Bos asks, once they're back at the Beaufort house's front porch. "It's tenser than the first time you brought Weiss to meet Grandmere and he wouldn't touch the ham croquettes."

"Bos!" She slaps him gently, then crouches in front of the aloe vera plant – her mother's green thumb was the best of all four Beaufort siblings, and she wants to take advantage of the soothing coolness for the sun on her shoulders . "You know Grandmere eventually came around," she reminds her brother.

"Sure, because that Yankee _loves_ you. No one can can't hate a guy like that, sissy, not even Grandmere. Not even if he's the worst kind of Yankee."

"Boswell Sevier…" she begins severely, turning around and pointing a finger at him.

"A New Yorker, that's all I meant!" He holds his hands up innocently. "Listen, you know damn well I love Weiss. But speaking of Yankees … " And he pushes off on the porch swing again. "Back to those Shepherds. What's going on with them?" He moves his head in the general direction of Reeds and lifts an eyebrow.

"Addison and Derek? They're having some … marital problems."

"I'm not blind, baby girl, I didn't miss that part. Why are they here together, then?"

"Because they're good friends."

"You mean to you, or to each other?"

"Well … maybe both. They're here together, and they're … trying to work it out. I guess. I hope they are, anyway."

"Huh." He raises an eyebrow. "Didn't think Addie would end up with a sourpuss like that."

"He's not really like that," Savvy sighs. "It's kind of complicated."

"Really? He seemed a little green-eyed if you ask me. And that's not so complicated."

"Well, he doesn't know-"

"-good," Bos grins. "Let him wonder, then. What's his problem with Addie, though?"

Savvy shakes her head. "I can't gossip about them, Bos."

"Who are you and where's my baby sister?"

She presses her lips together and pretends to lock them and throw away the key, just like she has for the past thirty-cough-cough years.

Bos shakes his head. "A little white lightning will loosen those lips if I know you."

He pats the swing cushion next to him and she settles in. He wraps his arm around her and she leans her head against her brother's shoulder, letting a long sigh escape.

"I miss her," she says softly.

"Me too, honey. Me too." Bos pushes off with his foot – it was always his job to do that; he was always taller than she was – and they rock slowly.

"You think Daddy's okay?"

"I think he will be okay, Sav. I do. I think we all will."

"Bos … I'm scared I'm going to get sick," she confesses. "I know it sounds so selfish, thinking about that now, but…"

"Not selfish. It's not selfish at all, but why do you think that – you don't feel sick, do you? Savannah, I swear…"

"No, no," she says quickly. "It's not that … it's just, you know. First Aunt Cece, and then Mama, and … you know there's some research now, says there's this gene mutation that runs in families and gives you breast cancer, ovarian cancer. Makes it practically a definite you'll get it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I took a test," she confesses. "Before I flew out here, I took a test for the mutation. I've been talking to the other girls and they're going to do it too." Her mother's brothers have two daughters apiece, making for six Beaufort girls altogether. "Millie's already given some blood, and the others are on board. All except Augie, she won't even hear me out."

"Augusta's stubborn, you know that."

"I know, but this is important. It's…" she pauses. "Bos … it could be life or death." She sighs "I know Augie hates doctors. I know. Has ever since …"

Her voice trails off. Her Aunt Cece – her blonde, laughing, elegant Aunt Cece, so much like her own mother, had fallen ill and passed so quickly it felt like a bad dream. She never even felt sick, that's what they'd all said over and over when they gathered on the island to say goodbye. Savvy was eighteen, barely started college, Cece's daughter Augie only sixteen. Her poor cousin had loathed hospitals ever since she lost her mother; it was all they could do to get her to deliver her own daughter in one, and no one could blame her.

The train of thought is interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. "Oh, Bos, Daddy's met up with Addie and them. Let's go."

 **.-.-.**

Derek has a vague memory of meeting Savvy's father before; he looked familiar as he stomped his way up the path to the hearth, clearly a force to be reckoned with. He's tall and broad-shouldered, his blond hair mostly white now but still thick and somewhat untamed. Derek also remembers that he goes by the name Big Randy, and he recalls asking Savvy long ago whether there was a Little Randy. _My brother,_ she said, looking confused, but not as confused as Derek felt. He'd never pressed the issue.

Big Randy shook Derek's hand and accepted his condolences once he joined them, thanking him for coming, but most of his attention has been on Addison since he arrived, sharing husky-voiced reminiscences with a smile as they stand around the cold firepit.

They all pause and look up as Savvy approaches. "Savvy!" Big Randy puts an arm out and pulls her into his side. Savvy, reasonably tall and statuesque, looks minute next to her father. "We were just talking about the day you and Addie met."

"When we made history." Savvy grins. "Fastest friends in the west."

Derek sees Addison and Savvy squeeze each other's hands.

"We met her on the same day, of course," Big Randy says, presumably for Derek's benefit. "First day of college. I'll never forget this one," he gestures toward Addison with a smile, "when we were moving you into that room, just unpacking all her things, doing whatever needed to get done – all by herself!"

Addison is still smiling back at Big Randy but Derek notices her posture stiffen just slightly.

"I said to myself, it's a good thing she's as tall as anything so she can reach those top shelves – she certainly had a lot of clothes to unpack."

Savvy smiles at the memory. "Addie always had the best clothes," she murmurs. Turning to Addison, she asks, "do you remember the-"

"-with the thing?" Addison finishes, laughing a little. "Of course I remember."

"And she unpacked it all by herself!" Big Randy spreads his hands, indicating a large job, still telling his story of the first day of college. "I remember saying to Katie, I said, we've spoiled our girl, look at Miss Savannah over there just fluffing her pillows –

"You always had so many pillows," Addison interrupts, smiling, and Savvy elbows her, laughing.

"-while we do all the work hanging and hammering. And here's her roommate just doing everything on her own. She didn't need her parents to hold her hand, just did everything all on her own."

Addison is still smiling, stiffly.

Big Randy turns to Addison. "Catherine loved you, you know," he says, and Derek sees her throat move as Addison swallows hard, then opens her mouth to say something.

She presses her fingers to her lips instead. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Derek finds himself moves a hand slightly toward her, sheer muscle memory, and then quickly brings it back down. With it he forces down the unwilling mental picture of a seventeen-year-old Addison standing alone on the dusty-wood floor of the double dorm room he's seen in pictures, while Savvy's parents fussed over her.

She's fine.

And anyway, she doesn't need him ... she's made that perfectly clear.

* * *

 _You guys, why can't you just make up?! Sorry, got away from myself there. So, at this point, I don't think either Shepherd has a great idea of what they're actually feeling, but one of them is having some sentimental muscle memory, at the very least. And things are out in the open. Because they don't really need to hide them, since their marriage is over (OR IS IT) (IT'S NOT) To be continued. Pretty please keep reading and review; I love reviews like Derek is gonna love white lightning ..._

PS Anyone else do the opposite-side thing in hotels?  
PPS Sorry for the hyper post-story notes...


	6. shadows of this life

**A/N:** The writer's block, she burns. I'm struggling with this story even though a lot of the back half is written (so to speak). Encouragement helps, hint, hint.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _6\. shadows of this life_

 **.-.-.**

"Well." Big Randy looks from one of them to the other; Derek finds himself shifting a little under the other man's penetrating gaze. "I think I'm going to go take care of a few things. I'll see y'all at dinner – you know who's on tonight?"

"Hank and Morgan, I think," Savvy says, tucking some of her hair behind her ears. "We take turns with the cooking on the island," she explains to Derek. "Everyone pitches in for different meals."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," Addison confirms. "Even us."

"But you can't cook," Derek reminds her.

"Well, neither can you. Microwaving hot dogs doesn't count."

"I'm sure I can figure it out, Addison."

"Well, as luck would have it," Savvy says, "the two of you are scheduled for breakfast tomorrow."

"Breakfast?" Addison says as Derek repeats, "the two of us?"

Savvy nods. "The two of you. Breakfast. Just be at the hearth in the morning. Beau and Lily are on for breakfast tomorrow, too. They'll help you out."

 _Great._

"What time?"

"You'll know," Savvy says vaguely, waving one of her hands.

Big Randy is looking back and forth between Derek and Addison. "What's that you said about hot dogs?"

"Oh, it was a Thanksgiving years ago," Savvy says. "Derek sprung on Addison that his entire _huge_ family was coming to their place and stuck her with cooking a thirty-two pound turkey – which, let me tell you, isn't exactly fun to track down in Manhattan the day before Thanksgiving. And then Derek let everyone blame Addison when the meal didn't turn out perfectly. Including his mother, who just loved having an excuse to pick on Addie and accused her of trying to kill everyone instead of what she _should_ have done … which was thank her profuselyfor pitching in at the last minute and then give her son the smack he deserved for letting it all go down that way."

Savvy exhales, having told the whole story in one breath, and smiles.

But Derek frowns, confused. He's never heard the infamous Hot Dog Thanksgiving described quite that way – and he's heard it plenty of times. In fact, Savvy hasn't even mentioned _hot dogs_ yet, and the absence of the key phrase apparently hasn't escaped Big Randy's notice either.

"But how do hot dogs figure in there, honey?"

"Oh." Savvy makes a dismissive gesture. "Derek nuked some hot dogs for his family later on after he made Addison do all the work and take all the blame."

Big Randy gives Derek a very unimpressed look before he says goodbye and heads off down the path.

Derek can't help but notice that Addison looks almost pleased.

"You know, usually when that story gets told, I come out the hero," Derek says mildly.

Addison rolls her eyes at this.

"What?" He spreads his hands innocently. "Addison, you know it's true."

"Well … things are different on the island." Savvy laughs a little and links her arm through his. "Oh, Derek, you know I love you."

"Really," he says, but his tone is light, and he smiles at her.

"Truly," Savvy assures him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"No?"

"No." She shakes her head firmly. "The island is special … don't you get it? No one comes here if they don't belong here."

"How do you know if someone belongs here?"

"They come here."

"That's circular," he protests.

"So's the island." Savvy grins at him. "Now go and get ready for dinner."

Derek glances toward Addison. "I'm keeping your wife for a few more minutes," Savvy says lightly, gesturing for Derek to go ahead of them; it's phrasing she's used many times, but it sounds different here.

 **.-.-.**

Savvy tugs her friend closer as soon as they're alone.

"Addie … what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"With you and Derek."

"Oh." Addison pauses.

"Last time I saw you, you were crying over him and he wouldn't call you back," Savvy prompts her.

"Yeah." She studies her hands.

"And now he's here and you're … what?"

"I don't know."

"Kidding around about hot dogs?"

"No. Actually, that was _you_ and Derek. Ooh, you know what? You can have him."

Savvy laughs. "I don't know if Weiss is into threesomes."

"Didn't you tell me senior year that-"

"Anyway," Savvy interrupts quickly, "we're talking about you and Derek."

Addie doesn't say anything.

Savvy sighs. "Look, you don't have to put on a thing with me, Addie. You know that. We don't do that with each other."

"But Savvy, your-"

"-mother just died? Yeah, I know. That's not going to hurt any less just because you don't tell me the truth, you know."

Addison nods slowly. "Okay. You're right."

"So?"

"So … I didn't see him until Charlotte."

"And then…"

"And then he wouldn't sit next to me on that tiny plane until the flight attendant forced him to."

Savvy can't help laughing at this. "Oh, I can't wait until the next time my brother goes drinking with Eaves so I can hear what that was like from the other side." Then she gets more serious. "So … what does that mean? You're separated?"

"Right now … we're very much together. Red Fox has one bed, Sav."

"It does?" Savvy knits her brows while tilting her head just slightly, the expression of mild and innocent confusion she's perfected when she's trying to get something from a busy court clerk. "I could have sworn I set you up in one of the double rooms. Do you want me to try to juggle people around? It would be hard, but-"

"No, of course not, it's fine. I was just saying – but no, we're not – lawyers aren't involved. I mean, other than you and Weiss."

Savvy smiles at that. "Okay." She takes the information in. "So he hasn't – "

"Filed?" Addison shakes her head. "No."

"And you haven't either."

"No."

"Okay." Savvy nods. "Because …"

"Huh?"

" _Why_ hasn't either one of you filed, I mean."

"I don't know."

"Is it because you…"

"He hates me, Sav."

"What about you? Do you hate him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't too thrilled with him before … everything happened in New York, Addie."

"He's seeing someone," she says abruptly. She's facing the river so Savvy can't quite make out her expression. "In Seattle – he's living in Seattle, by the way, which I only found out right before we came out here, and … he's seeing someone."

"Oh. Okay. Well, it's only been a month, right, and –"

"It's over, Sav. He can't even look at me." Addie straightens up, guilt flashing across her face. "Oh, god, I can't believe I'm talking about this when you – I'm sorry, Savvy, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Savvy grabs her in a quick, impulsive hug. "I asked, remember?"

Addison nods, looking pensive when they separate.

Savvy sighs. "You know what my mother would say, if she were here?"

Addison shakes her head.

" _Marriage is complicated_. She loved that one."

"Is that what we have, you think? A marriage?"

"You're still married, Ad. You have a marriage until you don't."

"Yeah. I guess that's right."

Savvy studies her old friend for a few moments.

"Addie … do you remember the starfish?"

"Yeah." The word is so soft it sounds almost like a sigh. "I remember the starfish. But Savvy, that's just –"

"-meant to be? I know." Impulsively, and before Addison can contradict her, Savvy wraps her arms around her friend again. And this time, she hangs on. She's not sure which of them needs the hug more, but she has a feeling they could both benefit.

 **.-.-.**

Derek is sitting in the large wooden swing on the verdant patio outside the door to their room at Reeds. His head is turned away from her as she approaches; he's watching the water.

"Hi," she says quietly when she's reached him and he still hasn't turned around.

Then she remembers that they have only one room key … and it's currently in her pocket.

"Oh … sorry," she says. "I, uh, I have the key."

He nods, but doesn't stand up, not does he look at her.

"It's … pretty out here, isn't it?" She shifts her weight, feeling strange to be … hesitating over small talk with the man she was married to for eleven years.

 _Is._ Is married to. They're still married. She takes a deep breath.

"Can I…" She gestures to the empty spot on the swing next to him.

"Yeah," he says, and for a moment she thinks they're going to talk, that this is a good thing, but then he pushes off from the wide wooden boards and stands up.

"Key?" He holds out his palm.

She looks from the empty swing to his empty hand, then puts the key in the lock herself and opens the door.

"Are you changing for dinner?" she asks as the door closes behind them.

He turns halfway into the room to look at her. "You're really worried about what I'm going to wear?"

"Not worried, just … never mind. I just meant so you can be comfortable."

"Nothing about this is comfortable, Addison."

She stands where she is, on the green and gold hooked rug by the bed. A hundred images flit through her mind, too quick to see, too disjointed to hold onto.

"Derek…"

She's not even sure why she calls his name, and she's somewhat surprised to see him step out of the bathroom to answer her. When did she move to stand right by the door, anyway?

"What is it?"

He smells clean from washing his face, and like mint toothpaste, and everything about this, about getting ready for dinner together, just feels so _normal._ It's hard to remember everything that's happened, sometimes. He's freshly shaven and she would put one of her hands up to his cheek and say _now this is how I like it_ and he would tease her and say _don't get used to it_ and buff her with whatever scratchiness he still had left to make her laugh. She used to love kissing him when he was freshly shaven, right after so she didn't end up with beard burn on her lips, her chin, except even when she did, it was worth it.

"Addison..."

"What?"

"What's the matter with you?"

He doesn't say it aggressively; he looks confused, even curious. Was she staring?

"Nothing. Sorry."

He shrugs and puts the toothbrush back in his mouth.

There's something about the gesture, so familiar and sort of vulnerable the way it hangs between his teeth, that compels her to walk toward him.

Derek takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Now what?"

He spits in the sink, rinses his mouth – twice – and then rinses away the glob of green foam in the porcelain.

He always rinses twice, and she's suddenly curious whether the girl he's been seeing in Seattle knows that. Whether she's seen him brush his teeth with a damp towel around his waist or pressed the flat of her hand to his freshly shaven cheek and received a minty-flavored kiss in return.

He's dating. He's _dating._ They were AddisonAndDerek for so long she's not sure what it would be like to date someone new.

Mark is …

Not a date. Not someone she's dating. Mark is _Mark_ , and … and he's left her a message that sounds concerned. And she gets that, because Derek was angry when he walked in on them – very angry – but Mark didn't see Derek the next morning when he was just … calm and blank and indifferent. When he stepped over her and then stepped out of her life.

"I, uh, … I need to brush my teeth too," she says meekly, gesturing toward the sink. She's wondering if he'll put toothpaste on the brush for her like he used to mornings when they were awake together for the same shift. They'd talk about their days, stumbling around sleepily…

"Fine. I'll be finished in a minute," he says, and closes the bathroom door, leaving her on the other side of it.

…

The sun has almost set by the time they make their way back to the hearth; the path from Reeds is dim, the waving reeds casting eerie shadows between their feet. There's a low breeze rolling in from the convergence of the rivers; it smells fresh, green and rich. The hearth looks very different when they get there: a fire is burning in the pit, and fragrant smoke is wafting up from an old-fashioned looking cauldron. Two people Derek doesn't recognize are stirring whatever is in the pot with long wooden spoons. Glass lanterns on the rock ledge provide some extra light.

Savvy walks up to them quickly. "Derek, your first dinner at the hearth – it's island stew." The man standing nearest Savvy chuckles, and Savvy elbows him. "Okay, fine, it's always island stew, but it's always a little different. Just go with it."

So he does, and when it's dished up in tin bowls and they're scooping it out with chunks of fresh bread, it's … surprisingly good.

Derek counts about thirty people gathered around the hearth, though it's hard to keep track since so many of them look alike and keep milling around, changing places. The mood shifts as the diners eat their fill, growing quieter and more pensive.

Savvy, who is sitting on the rough-hewn log bench next to them, is leaning back against Weiss, who has his arms around her.

Beau, across from them, is surrounded by blond children – one of them asleep in his lap, his wife cuddled up to his side. Bos has his arm through Big Randy's. Savvy's cousin Augusta – Derek recognizes her, he's been out with her in New York a few times and she looks a lot like Savvy – is holding a small blonde girl he assumes is her daughter on her lap with an arm resting across her husband's knees.

Derek can see Addison out of his peripheral vision as he watches the flames. Her dish is sitting in the grassy dirt next to her; she hasn't made much progress on her stew. She seems distracted by Savvy, who's whispering something to Weiss. She seems almost nervous when she meets Derek's eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Light from the fire is flickering over the faces of everyone gathered. When he turns fully to look at Addison he sees reflected flames dancing in her eyes. She doesn't seem bothered by the rough-hewn log bench, the ticklish reeds that poke up behind them, or the quickly crisping night weather. Apparently she only objects to camping out when it's his idea…

Conversation turns to Catherine, and stories murmur like waves up and down and around the circle, with family members talking sometimes in pairs or small groups, sometimes drawing in everyone.

When Big Randy starts to talk, the rest of the family falls silent. His voice is deep and loud, carrying over the sounds of the moving waters, the hum of crickets and the chirping of marsh frogs. "It's no secret to anyone here the island is special," he says. "Magical, even. I proposed to Catherine here. I needed the island's luck – well, after I got her daddy's permission, which was a whole _other_ story."

"Tell them about the snakes!" Numerous cousins prompt.

"No, that's for another time. But I proposed to Catherine here, right there on the beach, in fact and, well …"

"…she said no," Bos teases, lightening the moment. Big Randy cuffs him playfully on the back of the head.

"She said _yes,_ " Savvy corrects. "Right over there, right, Daddy?"

"That's right, honey." Big Randy sighs. "If the island is magic … so was Catherine."

Murmurs of assent move around the circle; Derek is reminded of a quieter version of call-and-response in churches.

"Catherine, she … could always tell when someone needed something: a hug, a conversation, little extra space, white lightning, a slap … mainly this one here …"

He indicates Bos, who grins ruefully at this and rubs the back of his blond head.

"She had this way of figuring out what people needed and just … giving it to them. And if she chose you … well, you knew you were one of the lucky ones."

Addison sniffs audibly at this.

Derek glances uneasily at her. Addison doesn't break down in public – she barely breaks down in private – and he's not prepared to deal with it if she's changing the game.

"The first time she invited me out to the island and I was trying to make sense of it all, and I said to her, the island belongs to your family?"

Derek can tell by the murmur starting to run through the crowd that this is a familiar story.

"And she said, _you've got it backwards … my family belongs to the island._ "

A few of the gathered relatives recite the words along with him.

"Right, Jack?" Big Randy turns to a muscular man with thinning blonde hair who looks to be around his age.

"Right." Jack nods. "My sister knew what she was talking about. Legend used to be that you could take that same curve on Black River that most of y'all did to get out here and not even _see_ the dock to St. Cera's. Only if the island wanted you back. Then you'd see it. Otherwise … she wouldn't take you."

Addison's elbows are resting on her updrawn knees, she's holding her face with both hands. She seems surprisingly small in that position, or maybe it's just the number of very large Beaufort relatives taking up the space around them.

"If you're here right now," Jack continues, "…then my sister loved you, that's a given, but if you made it onto the island then there's a reason for that too."

Derek glances at Addison, who seems to be focused directly on the flames dancing in the firepit right now. The air feels heavy and sleepy, with many of the children dozing on their parents or playing quietly just outside the pit.

She doesn't look back at him, but a soft sound escapes her as the relatives continue to share stories. Awkwardly – which is strange considering that even after all that has happened between them, he has still been married to her for eleven years – he places a hand on her back. Her muscles tense at the contact but she doesn't push him away.

She's still holding her face in her hands, he can feel her breath hitch and moves his hand to her shoulder, gripping gently. What's strange is that she feels the same. She should feel _different_ , because everything is different … but she feels the same.

The stories seem to last for hours, one relative picking up where another leaves off. Derek's aware some of them – or even most – are embellished, but the love with which they discuss Savvy's mother and banter about their own bonds and their connection to the island is clearly genuine.

The man he recognizes as Jack now finally calls the evening to a close, and sighs and a few popping joints provide background music as the crowd slowly starts to dissipate. Derek pushes himself off the log bench and then turns automatically to offer Addison a hand up; she takes it, and he pulls her to her feet.

And then he realizes what he did, and drops her hand quickly.

"Derek…"

He's already half-turned away.

"Wait," she calls, catching up to him and holding a lantern. "You don't want to walk back without this."

He doesn't acknowledge her further, but lets her light their way back down the path to Reeds. It gets quieter and quieter as the majority of Beaufort relatives drift toward the other side of the island where the family cottages lie. The few staying at Reeds enter on the other side of the complex.

Finally, it's just the two of them. Addison turns to him with one hand in her pocket.

He speaks before she can: "Are you planning to open the door?"

She's twisting the sleeves of her shirt, not looking at him. "You were … nice, almost, at the hearth…"

"I didn't want you to make a scene, that's all."

"Oh." Her face closes. "Yeah … I figured," and she turns the key in the lock.

 **.-.-.**

Once they're inside their unfortunately shared room, he sidesteps her to sift through his luggage. Putting this day to bed sounds like a good idea.

…though he'd prefer a larger bed, or better yet beds in two different rooms, to do so.

Addison has the dresser drawer open – she always insisted on unpacking immediately when they checked into a hotel, for both of them, and he used to tease her about it. Now he's asserting his independence by _not_ doing so, which is good. Except that his clothes are going to be wrinkled, and it's hard to find what he needs. But still … good.

He sees her hands go to the hem of her shirt, clearly preparing to -

"Addison!"

She lets go of the shirt. "What?"

"Do you mind?"

She sighs loudly. "You don't have to act like you've never shared a hotel room with me before, Derek."

He doesn't respond.

"Is this because of your girlfriend? You didn't tell her you were spending the weekend with your wife?"

"Addison." He turns back to her, massaging his temples. She's been all over the place since they got to the island – bitchy, then distant, then angry, then sad.

She props a hand on her hip, studying him. "Derek, she _does_ know you have a wife, right?"

… and then bitchy again.

He exhales heavily. "Oh, would you just shut up."

He glances over when she doesn't respond. Addison never drops a fight if she can help it, but she's gone silent and actually looks rather small and hunched on the side of the bed.

"Now what?"

She doesn't say anything.

He's not going to play games with her. Not anymore. He tosses down the lid of his suitcase – all his clothes are going to be wrinkled, but he'll just have to deal with it – and heads into the shower.

When he gets out of the shower – or rather, finishes standing in the clawfoot tub spraying himself with a hand-held showerhead, he wraps a towel around his waist and then pauses with a hand on the doorknob. It's ridiculous – they've seen each other naked countless times at this point, but for some reason he feels more naked than usual. He pulls on one of the cotton robes hanging on the iron hook instead. No, not a hook, a – he looks closely – a finely wrought reed shaped in a curve to hold the fabric. It's another example of the odd combination of intricate handiwork and rustic roughness that seems to characterize Reeds, as if the place were built by two teams with totally different values.

Addison is still sitting in the same spot on the bed when he pads out of the bathroom, seemingly staring into space.

"Addison…"

"I cared about Catherine," she says stiffly. "I've known her since I was seventeen and … and she always … I cared about her, okay?"

 _Not enough to pick up the phone,_ but he's not so angry with her to say it out loud, just angry enough to file it away to use against her later, if necessary. Looking at the lost way she's staring out the darkened window makes him feel a little less angry.

"Okay," he says quietly. She doesn't move until he takes a half a step toward her; then, she turns away from him.

"Forget it," she mutters.

"You haven't changed, then." He's annoyed all over again. "Still as passive-aggressive as ever."

"You've changed, though." She turns back toward him, tears in her eyes now. "You've changed, Derek. You used to care if I was upset."

He doesn't take the bait, and she doesn't say anything else, just continues staring into space. He can tell by the set of her jaw that she's trying not to cry.

"Addison …." He studies the floorboards. "It's been a long day. And we have to … cook breakfast, tomorrow. I'm done in there, why don't you go get ready for bed."

He peels back the covers on his side –

No, on the side he happens to be sleeping on. _His side_ sounds possessive, like they're still a couple.

But she's still sitting on the bed.

"It was just so fast," she says softly. "Here one minute, gone the next."

They've seen it countless times in the context of medicine, but he knows it's different when it's personal.

"How can something change so quickly?"

There's nothing he can say to that.

Slowly, Addison stands up and starts to walk toward the bathroom. When she passes him by he makes the mistake of eye contact and for one unblinking moment … he's lost.

It's like the water he was watching before, on the patio, when he was locked out of the room: there's so much to see below the surface that he's sinking. Then he sees the moment her lips part to speak to him, and he thinks he can see the shape of the word that's forming _sorry, I'm sorry_ , and he doesn't want to hear it.

Not again.

So he turns away from and fluffs the pillows a few times instead of engaging. They have to sleep. They have to sleep because they have to wake up in the morning and get through the next few days. And he needs to go to sleep alone before he's reminded that they have to share a bed.

But when he looks up she's still standing in the open bathroom doorway, one hand resting on the doorframe. Her posture is quizzical.

"Derek … what are we doing?"

"What are we doing?" He echoes.

He moves the covers again, refolding the top of the quilt. Her expression is making him uneasy, something about her stance, the set of her face. Her feet aren't planted for battle like he expected, more just … trying to stay steady, it seems. Trying to hold herself up.

"We're … going to sleep," he says, investing the answer with as much finality as he can even though he knows he's not really answering her question.

She doesn't take his cue to stop talking, though. She actually takes half a step forward, toward him. "Listen … I know how this might … sound, but can I just-"

"Good night, Addison." He speaks over her last few words, pulling the chain next to his bed to send the room into darkness before he has to see the expression on her face.

* * *

 _TBC. Steps forward, steps back, oh, you two can't you just **talk** (no, they can't, or they wouldn't be in this mess). But they'll get there. Don't forget tomorrow morning they have to cook breakfast for everyone ... still enjoying, still reading? Review and let me know; it's good for my writer's block! _


	7. time for me will be no more

**A/N: Hi and welcome back to the island.** Thank you so much for reviewing - I love reading what you think and I love all of you like Derek loves hair products. No, like Derek loves sulking. Anyway, you get the picture - a _lot._ This chapter is **long** , but that's totally okay because we're just about at mid-point in this story and the internet says the middle chapter can be longer. And if it's on the internet it's true, amirite? Thank you thank you for continuing to read and I hope you enjoy! #addekrevolution

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _7\. time for me will be no more_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

"Derek?"

He's turned away from her, but he can feel the mattress sink a little as she joins him in the bed that suddenly feels very small.

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"I'm answering you, aren't I?"

For a few moments she doesn't speak.

"Thank you," she says finally, softly.

"For what?" He rolls onto his back, confused.

"For … coming here with me, and –"

"I came here for Savvy. And Weiss."

"I know, I just mean – that you're, you know, pretending, or … not fighting with me when they're around, and … I just wanted to say thank you."

"Okay." He stares at the long wooden slabs of the ceiling fan above the bed.

"Okay," she whispers.

He hears her moving around, trying to get comfortable. There's no way this is a queen bed. It doesn't even feel like a full, not with the two of them both trying to get enough space right now, and then –

"Ow!"

"Sorry," she mumbles.

He forgot how sharp her elbows are. "Can't you stay on your own side?"

"I'm trying! It's small!"

"We can't all have a California King like Mark…"

He hears her inhale sharply. "Can you go five minutes without throwing him in my face, Derek?"

"You don't get the high horse here, Addison." He pushes himself so far to the edge of the bed that half his weight is pitching toward the floorboards. "You're _living_ with him."

"Derek, I'm not, I just … " Her voice is surprisingly small, shaking a little. "You know I hate sleeping alone," she says finally.

"That's why you slept with him? Because I wasn't home?"

"No, Derek, if I slept with someone else every time you didn't come home there'd be no one left in Manhattan I _hadn't_ slept with at this point."

"I have a demanding job." His voice is dismissive. "Last time I checked, you don't exactly have a nine to five, either."

"No, but I tried to … put you first. I looked for you, I waited for you, I showed up for you. That's all I wanted."

"So I don't show up and you screw my best friend. Great plan, Addison."

Her voice shakes a little. "It wasn't a plan. It was a … it was a mistake. And I'm sorry, Derek, I really am. I wish I hadn't done it."

"You wish you hadn't done it so much that you moved in with him?" He shakes his head. "Your story needs some work."

"It's not a story. It's the truth. Derek, I just … didn't want to be alone."

"Addison…" He punches his pillow and turns it over, trying to get comfortable.

She keeps talking, her voice thin. "You left me. I was waiting for a call from a lawyer or … you or _something_ , Derek, but you just took off and that was it. You left."

"How long did you wait after I left before you moved in with Mark?"

She doesn't respond. For long moments they're both quiet.

"Derek," she begins softly, but he cuts her off.

"Savvy's brother, Addison … really?"

"What about him?"

"You slept with him, which you conveniently forgot to tell me. Did you move in with him, too?"

"No, I didn't. I was nineteen." Her voice trembles a little. "And it was very-"

"You can spare me the details."

"Come on, Derek, you knew when we met that I wasn't a virgin."

"That's putting it mildly."

" _Derek._ " She sits up and he turns more fully onto his side so he doesn't have to see her. "Stop it. You … you can hate me for things I did when we were married and I know I deserve it but _not_ for something I did when I was nineteen. You _married_ me, Derek. You married me anyway."

"I guess I didn't really know you."

"That's not fair." Her voice is running high and shaky now. "And it's stupid. It's stupid and unfair and I'm not listening to this anymore, Derek. And you have to stop. I'm – I never mentioned it because it's ancient history, okay? You're not … you're not allowed to ruin something that was actually…"

"…actually what?" he asks coldly.

"Nothing. Just forget it."

He hears fumbling, feels the mattress give and release. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

He sits up on his elbows to see her rummaging in the refrigerator. "Moonshine," he guesses. Just like Addison to deal with her problems in a healthy manner.

"White lightning," she corrects him, "and you don't have to sound so judgmental; you don't care what I do, remember?"

"I remember," he says coolly. "Just keep it down, please, so I can sleep."

"I'm not going to bother you, Derek, I'm going out on the porch."

"Fine." He punches his pillow back into a more pillow-like shape and turns his back to her.

"Derek…"

He groans at her tone, the placating one.

" _Now_ what?"

"If I get eaten by an alligator … just remember that I promised Kathleen's girls my shoe collection."

And she lets the door swing shut behind her.

He flops back down, giving up on punching the pillow and just using it to cover his face instead.

 **.-.-.**

She sinks into the porch swing, folding one pajama-clad leg underneath her and using her slippered foot to push off the wide wooden slats. The slippery fabric of her pajamas makes her feel a bit like she's sinking, or swimming. She hugs herself against the cool breeze moving in off the river. The swing makes a rhythmic sound as the chains move back and forth, one-two-three, one-two-three, _he-hates-me, he-hates-me._

She draws a long, shaky breath. Closing her eyes for a moment, she listens to the soft island sounds around her: the movement of the water, the wind blowing through the reeds, the chirping of tree frogs, the giggling of a woman …

Wait.

Her eyes open and she sees a blonde ponytail swinging as its owner is swept into a passionate embrace in the reeds a few feet away.

Addison coughs politely to warn them of her presence.

"Ooh! I didn't see anyone there." The woman turns around giggling, and she sees it's Savvy's cousin Morgan. "Addie, gosh, it's late." She smiles, looking a little embarrassed. "I saw you before at the hearth but … um, it's been a long time."

"It has." Addison smiles. "You're a lot more grown up than you were as a junior bridesmaid."

"I'll say," the man adds, and Morgan giggles.

"Ignore him. This is Tyler, my husband," and Addison can tell from her tone that they're newlyweds, and sure enough, "we just got married in July. Ty, this is Addison, you know, Savvy's college roommate? We saw her and her husband at dinner?"

"Right." He nods, holding out a hand for her to shake, and Addison stands up, feeling a little foolish in her pajamas with a mason jar of white lightning – as yet untouched – resting on the wooden table next to the swing.

"So." She smiles at the happy couple. "What are you doing on this side of the island?"

"Same thing anyone does on the beach at this hour … looking for starfish." She grins at Addison with a wink.

"How about you?" Tyler frowns, looking concerned. "Why are you out here all alone? Where's that husband of yours?"

"He's … sleeping, I think."

Tyler exchanges a glance with Morgan. "Won't he worry if he wakes up and you're not there?"

"Um…" Addison tries to figure out how to answer that tactfully.

The door to Red Fox creaks open before she can answer; Derek stands in a crack of darkness, squinting a little. His hair is sleep-tousled in a terribly familiar way that makes Addison's stomach clench a little bit.

"I heard voices," he says by way of explanation.

"See?" Tyler indicates Derek with his head. "Sorry we woke you," he says. "We were just leaving."

"Bye, y'all," Morgan says casually, linking her arm through Tyler's. They make it only a few steps before stopping to kiss again, Morgan's giggling wafting through the quiet night.

Addison turns to see Derek is watching them too.

"Newlyweds," she explains.

Derek nods, leaning against the door jamb. "Think we should warn them?"

To her surprise, he's actually smiling a little, which takes some of the sting out of his words.

"Derek…"

"I'm going back to bed," he says abruptly.

"Derek, wait."

He turns to her expectantly. He's wearing a grey t-shirt with the faded insignia of the baseball team he played on for charity once as a senior resident. She bought him his plaid flannel pajama bottoms; they're red and green – _Christmas, our season,_ and he told her he didn't even mind that they were probably hideously expensive because they were so comfortable. The shirt is clinging to his torso in a way that makes her want to walk straight into his arms. _Forgive me. You'll forgive me eventually, right?_

She fights confusion along with her exhaustion. She's tired; she doesn't know what she's thinking. She just remembers being young _so young_ once, was it medical school, _I would go anywhere with you._

Or maybe there's just something in the sea air that's making her feel funny.

"Addison … what is it?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers, surprising herself a little. "I'm sorry about everything."

He studies her for a moment. "Don't drink too much," he says, and closes the door behind him.

 **.-.-.**

She wakes like she does most mornings: before the alarm, in stages, and the first one is the nicest: her cheek against his heartbeat, his warmer body – he's always warmer – firm and strong underneath hers. She exhales a little sigh and cuddles closer. They need to get up for work, but another minute or two until the alarm goes off won't-

And then a loud clanging – like an old-fashioned bell – rips through the room, and she jumps, and so does he, underneath her, and -

" _Addison_? What are you doing?"

She pulls away like she's been electrocuted. Because they're not in the sleigh bed she painstakingly picked out and that clanging was definitely not the alarm on her blackberry. They're on St. Cera's, and they're … whatever they are now … and Derek is looking at her much like he did that time they woke up in the Hamptons house and there was a mosquito perched on his wrist just waiting to drink his blood.

"Sorry," she says quickly. "I'm sorry. Just – habit or … muscle memory, sorry." Her cheeks burning, she scoots quickly back to her side of the bed, pulling the covers along with her.

"If this is your attempt to get me to sleep on the floor tonight so you can have the whole bed. … you can forget it."

"Okay," she says in a small voice, sitting up to draw her knees into her chest and hanging on tightly. She watches Derek swing his legs out of bed, the same way he always has. It's too early for the defenses she needs, for her not to want to crawl across the bed and press herself against his back like she used to when he'd get up, seeking his heat and the comforting feeling of his muscles against her.

"Are you cold?"

"Huh?" She glances at him.

"You're hugging yourself." He reaches into the carved wooden chest at the foot of the bed, pulling out an extra blanket that he tosses to her.

"Oh … thanks." She wraps the blanket around herself – it's a soft grey knit – and waits to feel warmer.

It's not what she wanted … but it's not nothing, either.

 **.-.-.**

"Coffee," he mumbles, staggering across the wide wooden floorboards of the unfamiliar room. There's no coffeemaker in the room – it's not a _hotel_ exactly, he reminds himself. Which is unfortunate because he needs caffeine so badly right now he's almost willing to settle for moonshine.

"There'll be coffee at the hearth. I think." Addison is still sitting against the headboard, he notices, wrapped in a grey knit blanket. There's a definite chill wafting through the room; the morning is crisp and it's too early for the strong sun he remembers from their arrival yesterday.

Right, the hearth. For mandatory breakfast duty.

But first … coffee. He spots a thick white ceramic mug sitting on the dresser.

"We bring our own mugs," Addison says, apparently noticing where he's looking. "To the hearth, I mean. That's how they do it."

"But there's just one mug here."

"Oh." She shrugs a little. "Maybe it's one per room then. You know … conservation and all. I guess we have to share."

 _Great._

He's ready before she is – the apocalypse could come and he'd still be ready before she is – but he's surprised by how quickly she gets dressed. He's waiting on the patio barely five minutes, tapping his foot against the floorboards, the empty white mug in one hand, before she breezes through the door.

She's dressed casually again, but warmer for the chilly morning in jeans, a thermal shirt, and a lightweight vest he's almost positive he bought for her years ago to try to convince her to go camping with him – figuring fashion was the quickest way to her heart. ( _Wilderness chic,_ that was what the saleswoman at Barney's called it.) Her hair is scraped back in a ponytail and she's not wearing makeup, leaving her face looking surprisingly young and almost … innocent.

Well. Appearances can be deceiving.

"You ready to, um…"

"Yeah." He starts walking without looking at her and lets her lead the way down the path that's almost familiar at this point, with the water on their right side and the endless green of the central, unsettled part of the island to their left.

They're not the first ones at the hearth. Beau and his wife are both already there along with several of their children, and another blonde woman he doesn't recognize is there as well. There's already a fire going in the big stone pit, with a large grill set across it. A huge, empty cast iron pan sits on one side, and Derek can see a cooler that presumably holds food resting on the smoothed-down natural floor. It feels early – _very_ early – but the cool morning air feels busy and bustling, interrupted with the cry of gulls down the beach and the sounds of children playing.

"You made it!" Beau smiles at them, and to Derek's relief gestures at a camping percolator much like the one Derek bought himself – except significantly larger. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Addison beams, taking the mug from Derek's hand and holding it out to Beau.

"Cream?"

"Yes," Derek says, at the same time as Addison replies, "No."

Beau looks from one of them to the other.

"I don't suppose there's an extra mug…" Derek's voice trails off as Beau shakes his head.

"Nope. Sorry. Guess you'll just have to figure it out."

Is it his imagination or does Beau seem amused?

"Okay." Addison takes the mug from Beau and closes her eyes as she inhales the scent of the strong coffee like she always does, even with terrible, over-brewed hospital coffee. "I'll drink half, Derek, and then you can put cream in the other half."

"Fine."

It takes her no time at all to gulp half the mug; Derek adds cream from a glass jug to the other half and makes short work of it.

"Refill?" Beau is holding out his hand, smiling again.

They drink three cups of coffee, fast, in this strange assembly line: Beau filling the mug each time and passing it to Addison, who drinks half black before handing it to Derek, who adds cream, finishes the mug, then gives it back to Beau for a refill.

"Okay." Addison is smiling now. "I feel much better."

"Good." Beau folds his arms, surveying the hearth. "Because there's a lot to do."

Derek sees another blonde woman and a tall, dark haired man heading their way pulling an old-fashioned wagon filled with crates of – presumably food. He remembers that although the island is small, they need to cook breakfast for everyone on it, which as far as he can count …

Well, he's not sure. Thirty? Forty? He hasn't even cooked breakfast for _four_ in as long as he can remember, much less forty.

"Meat!" The woman greets them cheerfully, indicating the crate filled with plump links of sausage.

"Eggs," the man adds, indicating another crate. Derek peers in to see eggs that look very different from the ones he buys at the store: they're uneven in size, some a pale blue and others tan, a few a greyish color in between.

"You're good to the chickens, the chickens are good to you," the man says cheerfully.

Derek looks at the first crate. "Is the sausage local too?"

"Of course," Beau says.

"There are pigs on the island?"

"There's a pig _farmer_ on the island. The pig _farm_ is back on the mainland." It's the woman who arrived with the crate – she looks like a younger version of Savvy, he sees now, taller with a high blonde ponytail and a blue-checked apron. Derek can't keep all their names straight except he knows all the girls were named after cities in Georgia. Is this one Atlanta? Macon? It probably won't do to guess.

"There's a pig farmer on the island? Where?" He looks around.

"Here," the woman says.

" _You're_ a pig farmer?"

"Don't sound so surprised." She laughs at him. "And the pigs live great lives on our farm before they end up on the table. My kids are always saying they the pigs get treated better than they do."

"Cammie, you're too much." Beau smiles at her.

"Derek ... you don't have to be rude to Savvy's family," Addison whispers when they've turned back to poking through the ingredients for breakfast.

"I wasn't! I was just surprised."

"By Camden?"

"The pig farmer is Camden?" _Isn't that in New Jersey? Must be one in Georgia too._ "Well, yeah. I'm just saying she looks more like ... an underwear model than a pig farmer."

"Oh nice, Derek. What do you know about underwear models, anyway?"

"One of the interns in my _new_ hospital happens to be a former underwear model," he says smugly, and Addison rolls her eyes. "…not the one I'm seeing, don't worry," he adds in a tone he knows is patronizing.

He turns to the sausages, examining the links.

"Wait."

He turns back to Addison. "What?"

"Did you just say _not the one I'm seeing_?"

"So?"

"So … you're seeing an _intern_?" She sounds horrified.

He could kick himself – that wasn't how he planned to-

"Wow," Addison shakes her head. "Dating an intern _._ God, Derek, that is just … tacky."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what's _not_ tacky about screwing my best friend?"

"Daddy, what does screwing mean?"

Derek looks down to see one of Beau's boys, who has been neatly stacking the cardboard egg cartons next to them.

"It means using a Phillips on a fastener when you're building something, son," Beau says, appearing next to him and glaring at Derek, who mutters an apology.

"Maybe the two of you should focus more on cooking," Beau suggests, "and less on … fasteners."

"Right." Derek locates a large tin bowl and starts cracking eggs into it; there's a metal whisk in the crate they can use for scrambling. At least this is something he can do. He rests the bowl on the stone ledge at the top of the circle as he works, relieved to be doing something he can do well. He's a world-class surgeon, after all, and while he may not be accustomed to cooking breakfast, his hands are nothing if not accurate. His hands don't make mistakes.

"Mister Derek!"

Something is pulling on his shirt and he looks down to see a small blonde girl. She points at the bowl. "You're not s'posed to have the shells in there.'

"I know that," he says.

"Oh."

He feels another tug on his shirt.

"Yes … " He tries to remember her name.

"…Avery," she supplies.

"Right. Avery. What is it?"

"There's a _lot_ of shells in there."

"Well…" He glances into the bowl, where numerous sharp little shards are floating among the eggs. The multicolored shells make it even more obvious.

"You have to get 'em out," she says patiently.

"I know," he tells her again, and reaches in to get the biggest one ... which promptly slides away from his fingers. Damn it. He tries again ... and the shell slips away from him at the last minute. The egg whites are slipping viscously around his hand, and the yolks are starting to break from the pressure, hiding the shells further. _Damn it._

Avery is still watching him.

"Want me to help you get 'em out?"

He looks at her small fingers.

"Yes, please," he admits.

Avery beams and holds her arms up; Derek lifts her onto the stone bench so she can sit next to the bowl, and she dutifully fishes out every piece of shell.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

There's a loud sizzling noise just then. He looks over to see Addison is adding butter – at least he hopes it's butter and not lard, but he won't think too much about it – to the cast-iron pan sitting atop the grill.

"I'll cook the eggs." Addison reaches for the bowl, "and you can cook the sausage."

"I already cracked all the eggs," he protests.

"Well, I don't want to touch the sausage," she hisses, and he swallows a sarcastic reply. Only Addison can have no problem being elbow deep in a pregnant woman but refuse to lay a finger on raw meat if she can help it.

"Fine." He hands her the tin bowl and sets about placing the sausages on the grill; there are metal tongs, and he's not really sure what needs to be done other than … heat. So he stands there and watches them sizzle, figuring if he screws anything up beyond repair, hopefully Avery will notice before it's too late.

Meanwhile, Addison is standing on the other side of the fire pit, scowling into the cast iron pan. He has a moment of pleasure that she seems more lost than he is in this camping version of a kitchen.

"Need a hand, Addison?"

She glares at his overly cheerful tone. "I know how to make eggs, Derek."

"Really? I've never seen you make eggs."

"Just because you haven't seen me do something doesn't mean I don't know how to do it! I can do a lot of thing. I _am_ a surgeon."

"Then you must know you have to actually scramble your … patients, unless you're trying to make an omelet."

"I know that," she says hastily, sticking the whisk into the pan and giving it a few whirls. "And maybe you should check on your own _patients_ , Derek – those sausages are burning," she adds with an exaggerated sniff.

"They are?" Derek pokes at them experimentally with the tongs. In his experience, sausages are done when his mother or one of his sisters takes them off the stove. How is he supposed to know when they're finished? And whose idea was it to cook over an open hearth, anyway? Addison doesn't look like she's enjoying herself much more than he is; strands of long hair have come down from her ponytail and she's flushed from the heat of the fire pit; she keeps swiping an arm across her face and as a result there's a trail of butter along one cheek that he's pretty sure she doesn't know is there.

She catches him looking. "What?"

"Nothing."

And through all this, Beau is relaxing on a log bench with a cup of coffee. Derek uses every ounce of willpower he has not to glare at him.

There's smoke rising from the cast iron pan now, and when he peers over to her side again the bright yellow eggs have turned a worrying shade of tan.

"Addison –"

"What now?" She glares at him.

"Nothing," he says mildly. "Just, if those eggs are your patients … you might need a crash cart."

"Derek, just leave me alone!" She whirls around, annoyed, somehow knocking the pan off the grill in the process.

"Addison!"

She's managed to jump out of the way before the eggs or the pan can hit her – they've splattered on the smoothed-down floor of the hearth instead – but she must have hit the pan with her non-potholdered hand, because she curses and stuffs her finger into her mouth.

"Look what you made me do!"

Okay, he feels a little bad now.

Beau and Lily are at their sides. "Addie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, her voice muffled around her hand.

They don't look convinced, both of them glaring at Derek. He sighs inwardly, remembering their agreement.

"Let me see," he says, turning back to Addison and reaching tentatively toward her.

She doesn't move. Derek sees Beau and Lily exchange a glance.

"Addison, come on," he says impatiently, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her hand away from her face.

"Let go." She scowls as he inspects the mark on the back of her hand.

"Addie, would you just – let me look," he mutters. "You burned your hand."

"Really? I didn't notice. Good thing you're here to – ow!" She tries to pull her hand back when he carefully probes the area around the burn, bringing his arm with it since he doesn't release her wrist. "You did that on purpose," she hisses.

"No I didn't, stop being ridiculous."

"Derek, let _go_ of me," Addison snaps, apparently forgetting her end of the bargain and attempting to pry his hand off with her uninjured one, then letting out a noise of frustration.

"Just ... sit down and stop flipping out." He pushes her toward one of the rough-hewn log benches and waits for her to lower herself onto it

"Mama, why is he being so mean?" He turns around to see another one of Beau's little sons – or someone else's, there are so many blond children on this island there's no way to keep them separate.

"He's just grumpy." Lily shoots Derek a look that makes clear that had better be the answer. "Hey Addie … you all right?"

"She's fine," Derek repeats.

"Here." The underwear-model-pig-farmer passes him a first-aid kit. "I may not be a doctor, but I am a mother, so … have at it."

Addison is sitting on the log bench, glaring at him, holding her injured hand in the uninjured one.

Sighing, Derek takes the first aid kit and sits down next to her.

"Everyone is looking," he says quietly, turning his face toward her. "And I can see Savvy coming down the path. So if you still want people to think…"

"Fine, here." She holds out her hand.

The burn is just a small slash along the side of her pinky finger, only the first layer of skin affected; it could have been much worse. Someone passes him a cloth soaked in cool water; he places it over the burn.

Addison leans toward him, her long hair falling to cover them, and whispers, _is everyone still looking?_

He pulls back and nods, and she makes a face.

"Ow," she frowns when he removes the cloth and pats the injury dry.

"Sorry." He adds ointment and a loose gauze wrap, trying not to look at their audience.

"There," he mutters, not looking at her. "Done."

She's probably going to get out of kitchen duty now, too. He's preparing to stand up when a little voice cuts into his thoughts.

"Mister Derek…" He looks up to see Beau's daughter standing in front of the two of them with her hands on her hips.

"Yes, Avery?"

"You're not done yet."

"I'm not?"

"No, 'cause you forgot to kiss it."

"I forgot to … wait, what?"

"You're s'posed to kiss the owie after you put on the band-aid," she explains patiently.

"Oh. Um … I think that's just when kids hurt themselves, Avery."

"Nuh-uh." She shakes her head, blonde ringlets moving from side to side. "My daddy did when my mama cutted her leg, I was there."

"Right." Derek nods slowly. "Uh … okay."

He braves a glance at the gathering crowd: Savvy, Boswell, who's joined her, Beau, and Lily all look amused; Beau's children seem fascinated, and when he turns his head, he sees that Addison looks sheepish.

Avery, on the other hand, looks determined, and the sooner he finishes the sooner he can stand up – so he braces himself.

Lifting Addison's injured hand carefully, and steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes, he presses his lips quickly a safe distance from the gauze.

He raises his eyes afterwards, in spite of himself, and they meet hers.

For a moment, they freeze.

And that's when he realizes they are sitting on a log bench in the middle of nowhere and the breakfast they painstakingly tried to cook for everyone on the island is scattered in the grass and he just let a tiny little girl convince the most sought-after neurosurgeon on the east coast to … _kiss an owie._

Addison's lips twitch first and then he can't help laughing too. He still holding her hand in the air and she has her other hand pressed to her mouth now, smothering giggles while he tries to get control of himself. It's just that he can't not laugh when she's laughing like this, he's never been able to; the musical sound of it always sets him off, and this is so _ridiculous_ , so funny –

Except then he remembers where they are and why, and what happened to their marriage, and the moment is lost. The laughter dies on lips; realizing he's still holding her injured hand, he sets it down carefully on her leg and then looks away.

She goes quiet too then, gazing down at her lap.

"Addie … did that husband of yours just _laugh_?" Beau's voice cuts into the uncomfortable silence, sounding impressed rather than aggressive. "That's island magic for you, all right."

Addison glances quickly at Derek, then back to her lap. "I should, uh … help clean up the eggs."

"Right." Derek nods. "I'll get the … sausages."

He watches her join the others who are cleaning up, Savvy immediately ordering her not to try to help with her injured hand. Thankfully, Camden has attended to the sausages while he was treating his patient; they're a little blackened but they look … somewhat edible, at least.

"Hey, Derek."

He turns, tongs in hand, to see Beau looking at him.

"Addie said you like to fish?"

He nods warily.

"You want to come out with us after breakfast?"

Boswell nods, apparently seconding the invitation.

"With, uh, with the two of you?" Derek looks from one of them to the other.

"That's right. You in?"

 _No. Absolutely not._ There's no way he's going to trap himself on the open water with two men who've made clear they don't like him, one of whom slept with Addison.

He opens his mouth to refuse as politely as possible.

"…sure," he says weakly, and both men smile broadly at him.

 _Damn magic island._

* * *

 ** _TBC. Hopefully soon. Sooner if you review (she says shamelessly, because she is shameless). xoxo and thank you!_**

Chapter title from _Just a Closer Walk with Thee_ , traditional/author unknown. All the chapter titles for this story come from hymns but I bet you already knew that...


	8. sit down by the river

**A/N: Writer's block, I'm comin' for ya.** I've been feeling stuck on a bunch of my WIPs but I'm gritting my teeth and powering through. Or trying, anyway. So here's the next installment of Addison and Derek and the Magic Island... I'd call this long chapter the other half of the middle. Enjoy.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _8\. sit down by the river_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

In addition to the many adjectives he's heard about the Beauforts so far, Derek learns that they're resourceful too. Someone digs up dried oats and uses the cleaned and already heated pan to make enough porridge for the group that the ruined eggs are forgotten. One of the cousins is a professional pianist who uses her nimble fingers to scrape the most inedibly burned part off the sausages.

And so, the group is fed, if not exactly how they planned, and then the crowd thins out with blond heads darting off in every direction. Derek, who is in no hurry to go fishing with Beau and Boswell, lingers around the hearth to help clean up.

"Derek." Weiss gestures to him. "Come help me get the cart."

Derek follows his friend. "What cart?"

"You're seeing someone in Seattle."

Derek stops in his tracks. "Okay, that ... doesn't really answer my question about the cart. But … yeah. I'm seeing someone in Seattle. How did you know?"

Weiss shrugs. "Small island. Not sure anyone within fifty feet of breakfast doesn't know."

"Oh. Sorry." Derek holds open the swinging door of the shed Weiss has led him to, watching his friend wrestle a dolly from the tangle of equipment. He waits for judgment, follow-up questions, but they don't come.

"She's still with Mark," Derek says anyway. "She stayed with him after I left – did you already know that too?"

"Actually, no." Weiss seems to be considering this as he blinks in the daylight. "I guess you're louder than Addison."

"I can't believe anyone is louder than Addison."

For a moment both men smile.

Then Derek's face drops. "Weiss, did she say – I mean …?"

Weiss pauses. "I can't talk about it. Chinese wall, man."

"Excuse me?"

"You know. A conflict screen." When Derek still looks puzzled, Weiss sighs. "I don't tell Addie what you tell me, and I don't tell you what she tells me."

"What makes that Chinese?"

"We use a lot of outdated terminology in my line of work. Actually … I should probably look into that. Look, Derek … all I'll say is we love both of you. And Addison … she was a mess after you left. Sav had to make an emergency appointment to get her hair colored because she bleached it blonde."

"Addison dyed her hair blonde?" He tries, and fails, to picture it.

Weiss shrugs. "People do crazy things when they're heartbroken."

"Heartbroken?" He shakes his head. "Please. She slept with my best friend."

"Which was a lousy thing to do, and it's on her. I get that. Doesn't mean she wasn't heartbroken. You didn't see her, after," he adds.

He sees her now: a brief flash of her, sitting numb on the floor outside their bedroom door, ignoring his outstretched hand as he set his wedding down beside her.

"You're on her side."

"I'm not on anyone's side," Weiss says patiently, "and why do there need to be sides anyway?"

Derek shrugs this time.

"Fine, then I'm on both your side. She's … look, Derek, I've known her for a long time. Both of you, but Addison longer."

He glances at Weiss. "She didn't sleep with you too, did she?"

For a moment Weiss just stares at him and Derek tastes regret on his own tongue. He opens his mouth to apologize but Weiss speaks first.

"You get that one, Shepherd. _One._ I know you've had a hard month, and I know you two have been trying to keep it together for Savvy, but don't insult me, _and_ my wife, _and_ yours like that again."

"Sorry." Derek looks down at the reeds.

"Hey." Weiss claps his shoulder, dragging the dolly noisily along behind him. "You've got nothing to worry about with me, my friend. I'm not stupid enough to step out anywhere. If her brother didn't murder me first … Savvy would cut my junk off."

Derek snorts at this.

"The last time I let someone near it with a knife was almost forty years ago," Weiss adds, "and I have no desire to repeat the experience, no matter how tasty the Zabar's spread was afterwards."

Derek smiles a little.

"So. You're going fishing with the Bs, huh?"

"The Bs?"

"Beau and Bos." Weiss shakes his head. "You're a brave man."

"Is it … too late to back out?" He's only half joking.

"Definitely." Weiss gives him a little smile. "I'd come with you, but Savvy needs me to stick around."

"Of course." Derek sighs. "Look, Weiss, we didn't mean to … neither of us wants to drag our problems here. You and Savvy have enough to deal with."

"She wanted you here. We both did. Your problems are … part of who you are right now, and Savvy wanted you here."

.-.-.

Addison shades her eyes with her unbandaged hand, watching Derek and Weiss stroll down the path with a rolling cart behind them.

Most of the cousins have already scattered and the last few are carrying crates back toward the refrigerated storage unit. Derek lifts an eyebrow when he sees her.

"Why are you still here? You got off cleaning duty with that … wound," he says lightly, gesturing at her hand.

"I know, I'm just getting fresh air." It sounds like what it is: an excuse.

In truth she's lingering, dawdling, trying to soak up anything that remains from the moment they shared when he was bandaging her hand.

Because she wants to know how to recapture that moment. She wants to laugh with him again.

She wants to ask whether he's ever going to forgive her – not to rush him, not for ultimatum's sake, but so she can organize the confusion in her mind. So she can find a working order for the regret, the disappointment, the anger … and the worst part, the missing him. She doesn't know what it all means. Not when it's jumbled up like this. Not when she's busy taking the temperature of his shifting moods.

She needs him to decide first.

There's one brief moment where she wonders if he's waiting for _her_ to take the initiative, and then another moment when the futility of that game of … emotional chicken … strikes her. She doesn't want to live in emotional détente.

"You missed a plate down here in the reeds," she says, pointing.

He glances over. "Can you put it in the bin?"

"I'm injured." She makes her face purposely innocent, wondering if she can get him to smile.

"Pick it up with your good hand," he suggests.

She does, and when she brings it over to the bin she pauses, close enough to Derek to see his face.

"You don't have to go, you know," she says nervously, watching him. "With those guys, I mean. Fishing."

"You volunteered me."

"I didn't! Beau said-"

"Not at breakfast, on the boat over here. With Beau."

She thinks back, then hears her own purposefully innocent tone. _Derek loves to fish._

Was this what she had in mind? Goading him into heading out on the river without a buffer?

"You do love to fish," she says faintly. "And anyway, you don't have to go."

"Why do you keep saying that?" He studies her for a moment. "Do you _not_ want me to spend time with Savvy's family?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She leans back a little toward the firepit, startled when he suddenly grabs her arm.

"Did you really just try to use a firepit that was lit until ten minutes ago as an _armrest_?" He's shaking his head as he moves them both a few steps away and then releases her arm. "How have you stayed alive for forty years?"

She points a finger at him. " _You_ won't stay alive much longer if you're going to be implying that I'm forty."

He catches her finger like he used to when they'd tease each other, gripping it in his warm hand. "Don't point at me," he says and she swallows hard, because she can see the moment it registers in his eyes.

 _It_ meaning everything. All those things she can't organize either. The whole confused mess their marriage has become.

She wonders if he teases the girl he's seeing in Seattle. If she teases him. The _intern._ Does she point at him? Does he catch her finger in his hand if she does? She thinks about all the time they've spent over the years talking about medicine. They've spent their entire career together, from fresh-out-of-college, barely-out-of-their-teens all the way through medical school, residency, fellowship. Through publications and presentations and departmental takeovers. Parallel lines, train tracks running alongside each other.

Or into each other, maybe.

But really – what could he have to say to an _intern_?

He releases her hand and steps back. "I'm going straight to the dock after this," he says woodenly, starting to push the cart toward the path.

"See you later," she tells his back.

.-.-.

"Not bad for a New Yorker."

Beau and Bos are looking at him appraisingly as sorts through his gear.

"I'm not a New Yorker anymore. I live in Seattle."

"I thought New Yorkers were required by law to hate every place outside the city."

"I guess I'm unique."

Bos snorts at this, but not in a particularly unfriendly way.

Their attitudes are puzzling. From the moment they climbed into the little white boat, somewhere between a motorized skiff and a seafox, it's as if some kind of island truce took over the boat.

Maybe it's that the boat, while small, is roomy for three, with comfortably beat-up seats. They're the only ones out as far as Derek can see and Bos, a visor shielding his eyes from the sun, manages to join the conversation while he helms.

Derek realizes with a start that he hasn't been out in a boat with another man who loves fishing since his father died. Remember that Beau took his sons fishing the previous day is making him feel almost choked up, which he hides by aiming his face toward the sea spray. Bos hoots approvingly and speeds up.

"Big shot." Beau rolls his eyes, then focuses on his line.

"You hangin' in there?" Bos turns to Derek, who can't imagine that the line is directed to him, so free from malice is it.

"Yeah," he says finally. "It's, uh, pretty great out here."

"Isn't it though?" Bos leans back, one hand behind his head, the other guiding the wheel. "Feels like you're the only boat in the world."

And then he slows down and cuts the motor and they're floating, peaceful and quiet. The gulls are few and far between, there's little _plink_ of tiny fish surfacing, water droplets being displaced, and that's it. The sun slices down between them; the cracked leather of the seat heats up under their legs. The air is still cool, even crisp, with a breeze blowing in from the island side; Derek keeps his barn jacket on, and the combination of chilly breeze and heated sun is undeniably pleasurable.

"Sometimes I wish we could just live out here," Bos says, Beau murmurs assent and, in spite of himself, so does Derek.

Bos studies him for a moment. "It's just little ones out here," he says finally. "We can go deeper tomorrow maybe, get out in the ocean and hit some of the big ones."

Derek's still not quite sure of the geography of the island, except that multiple rivers seem to be dumping verdant sheets of water into the path to the island, and the vast empty ocean waits on the other side with the kind of large catches he's not used to making.

Shading his eyes from the sun, he tilts his head back to catch a view of the island, a little smudge. He sees a second smudge, in the distance.

"What's that?" He points.

The men exchange glances. "Don't worry about it," Boswell says finally, which isn't particularly reassuring, but Derek drops it, assuming it must be some kind of Hatfield/McCoy situation.

"You want to talk about it?" Beau's question comes as such a surprise that Derek just stares at him in response.

"Or you just want to blame her for it," Boswell suggests.

Here it comes. He knew he wouldn't be able to escape unscathed. He's still sure how much, if anything, they know.

"We know," Bos says as if he can read Derek's mind.

"You know and you still think it's my fault." Derek shakes his head. "Unbelievable. Of course you don't think she did anything wrong."

"What she did was more than wrong," Beau says bluntly. "It was terrible."

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

"We know what she did. What we don't know is what you did."

"What I did – that wasn't until after." He's thinking of Meredith.

"No … I mean before."

Derek glances at Beau. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"It takes two people to make a marriage. It takes two of 'em to break it too. You must've thought about your part in it."

" _She_ broke it," he insists.

"She's responsible for her part," Beau confirms smoothly. "Is she taking responsibility?"

He thinks of her apologizing, the way she chased him down the stairs the night he caught her, _I'm sorry for everything,_ she said on the patio last night, but he's also thinking of her flippant tone, her seeming entitlement to his forgiveness.

"I don't know," he admits.

"Were you a good husband?" Bos asks a question now, head slightly cocked.

"I don't know," he says again.

"You don't know?"

"How can I…?" His voice trails off. He turns the question around, directing it to both men: "Are _you_ good husbands?"

"You'd have to ask Lily," Beau says.

"You'd have to ask Casey," Bos agrees.

Derek exhales a frustrated breath. "That's what I just said … never mind." He turns to Beau, realizing he hasn't met Bos's wife yet. "What if Lily slept with your best friend?" He says it boldly, bluntly, half expecting to be punched or shoved off the boat, but Beau seems to be considering the question seriously.

"I don't know where she'd find the time, with five kids. It would be pretty impressive, actually."

"This is funny to you." Derek shakes his head. It was a mistake to think these men were anything but-

"Sorry," Beau says quickly, and actually sounds sincere. "It's not funny. It would be horrible," he admits. "The broken trust … and hearts … and look, no man can say what he _would_ do, only what he's done, but I'd like to think I'd try to work it out. At least try to figure out what happened, if nothing else."

"For the kids, you mean?"

"No, for us. We married for better or for worse. The _for better_ part is the easy part. Anyone can be married for better. I'm speaking from experience," Beau adds.

Derek glances at him. "Your wife…"

"…didn't cheat on me, no, but … well, our first two boys, they're only a year apart. We had Tatt first – that's junior, and when it was just him we thought we had it made. We were tired but we had each other and we had a sweet baby and things were … good. Then we had two babies and the second had colic and the both of them seemed to need us every single second. Six months later she's pregnant again and you can imagine how popular that made me at home. We never slept, we were hardly ever alone … it was hard. It was bad."

"What happened?" Derek looks from one man to the other. "You didn't … ?"

"…leave her? Hell, no. Her daddy would've chased me wherever I went and disemboweled me, and that's if he was feeling generous. And my folks would have been right behind him. But I did talk to my parents. They got married and stayed married and had all four of us pretty close together. I said, when are things going to go back to the way they were?"

Derek nods, waiting.

"And they said _never._ " Beau lets that sink in for a minute. "There's no going back. Babies … they change things. You can't get the marriage back you had before. You can get a _new_ one, if you work at it, maybe even a better one, but it takes time and effort and all that not-easy stuff no one wants to do. So," Beau pauses, leaning back on his seat and looking at Derek. "Maybe you need a new marriage."

"A new marriage." Derek shakes his head. "We're not … this isn't reconciling, we're just … "

"Okay." Beau shrugs. "If you're giving up, you're giving up. Look, we don't really know you. But we've known Addison longer than you have."

"Hell, even Weiss has known Addison longer than you have," Beau adds.

"He has?"

"Yeah, remember? Weiss vetted him and then he said-"

"Vetted me?"

Beau frowns. "He was protective, after-"

" _Beau._ " Bos interrupts him.

"Weiss is a protective guy," Beau says smoothly.

Bos starts talking before Derek can. "When y'all got engaged, Savvy said you were good for her. That you loved her."

"I was. I mean … I did."

He hasn't thought about their engagement in a long time. He thinks of it now instead of wondering why Savvy's brother and cousin seem to have been informed of his and Addison's engagement.

As for his proposal … perhaps unfortunately, he can still recall it as quickly as dispensary shorthand. _The locker room, strung with Christmas lights. The other interns were in on it; only a month was left of their first year anyway. He didn't care what their resident said, didn't even care when Richard scolded him – he had a twinkle in his eye anyway, Richard loved Addie and no one was happier than Addie. Unless it was Derek. A thousand tiny white globes of light playing on the pink of her scrubs, the blue of her eyes, her long bright hair. If you marry me it will be like our favorite season all year long, that's what he said, and I promise to give you Christmas every day of the year._

He's gazing out at the water; when he turns his head Boswell is studying him.

"You weren't supposed to hurt her," Bos says quietly.

He opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, feeling like one of the fish on the line. Caught in a hook. The whole island is a hook that's trapped him.

"What about you?" It's Bos's question this time. "Did you break any marriage vows?"

 _Fidelity isn't the only vow, you know. You also took vows, Derek, and one of those was to love me._

"When do I get to ask a question?" Derek looks from one Beaufort to the next.

"Not until you earn it," Bos says, and Beau nods in agreement.

"I didn't … cheat on her," Derek says finally.

"Don't you have a girlfriend in Seattle?"

"How do you –" He breaks off before either man can say _it's a small island._ "I'm … seeing someone, yes. But I went to Seattle after … what she did," he clarifies.

"But you're still married."

"Separated."

The men exchange a glance. "So you're getting divorced?"

"I don't know," he grinds out, adjusting his line. "Look, we didn't want to bring our problems to the island. You've had a loss, and we came to support you."

Bos studies him for a moment. "My mama _loved_ interfering in other people's marriages," he says, and his cousin laughs.

"It's true. Someday after a few beers maybe you'll find out what Aunt Kate told Lily at the wedding." Beau looks out at his line. "You must be hurt," he adds.

"Hurt?" Derek leans forward in his seat. "Why?"

"It would hurt," Beau says simply. "If it were Lily. If it were me. I would be hurt. I would be _sad_."

"Well, I'm not," Derek says, staring out at the water, trying to pin the horizon with his eyes.

"Okay," Beau says.

"We believe you," Bos adds."

All three men will swear later they have no idea what happened next, some combination of Bos reaching out to gesture as he speaks, Beau pulling back on his line, and Derek glancing down into river.

But the next thing that happens is cold, cold, _surprisingly so very cold_ surrounding him as he plummets into the water.

"Derek!" Both cousins are shouting his name as he surfaces.

"You pushed me overboard!" He spits this, swiping soaking hair out of his eyes. He took off his life jacket to get more comfortable and now he's expending energy treading water. Somehow the line stayed in the boat. And the other two men didn't capsize. _Maybe the island really is magic._

Bos holds out a large red and white flotation device. "Well?"

"I'm not getting back in the boat," Derek pants angrily, treading water in sweeping, furious gestures.

"You want to use up all your energy when you're dumb enough to take off your PFD?" Beau turns to his cousin. "Bos, maybe we should just let Darwin have this one."

The sun is glinting off the water and his clothes are heavy.

"Derek! It wasn't on purpose, you maniac." Bos is glaring at him and his voice sounds more far away now. "Take the buoy or drown, it's your call."

"Addie won't be happy if we drown him," Beau warns Bos. "Even if she should be."

"Admit that you did it on purpose," Derek challenges, his teeth chattering as he circles his arms and legs, trying to stay afloat and stay reasonably warm at the same time.

"You're not really in a position to negotiate right now, are you?" Beau's tone is pleasant. "You have no boat, no life jacket, and no idea what's in that water."

Derek forces his face to remain neutral.

"Just get in already." Bos chucks the pellet-shaped flotation device harder this time, so that it bounces off Derek's half submerged shoulder; on instinct, he grabs it.

And then Bos, who is alarmingly strong, hauls him in single-handedly.

A sopping-wet Derek perches on the bench, attempting to hold his head high while dripping streams of water down to the bottom of the boat. Dignity seems as far away as New York City right now.

Neither of the Beaufort cousins is laughing, though.

Bos studies Derek for a moment. "Okay," he says finally. "You've earned a question."

Derek asks it quickly, before he can change his mine.

"When was the last time my wife was here, on this island?"

There's a long moment of silence. "I … think it's about time to head back," Beau says finally, unnecessarily, since they've already turned the boat.

"You said I earned a question."

"Not that one," Bos says darkly. "You haven't earned that one."

.-.-.

"You talked to Derek."

Savvy's voice is a quiet hum that blends perfectly with the sounds of the tree frogs and the scattered scampering noises that are somehow peaceful instead of ominous. The unsettled land around the cottages is unexpectedly soothing, serene, as if the wildlife and the Beauforts struck a deal long ago not to interfere with each other.

Come to think of it, Weiss wouldn't be shocked if they did.

He's sharing a quiet moment on the porch swing of the old cottage with his wife now, mostly not even rocking, just slowly drifting when the breeze moves them. Savvy's legs are in his lap but she's leaning back against a worn cushion on the other side of the swing, and she's been determined since they sat down to talk about what Weiss thinks of as Other Things.

Other Things – one of the talking points around a funeral. There's also Keeping Busy, that's an important one.

They spent almost forty minutes dissecting a thorny evidentiary issue, and now that they've hashed out a rough solution, she seems to be moving on to talking about Addison and Derek.

"I talked to Derek," he confirms.

"But you didn't tell him."

"I told him about the blonde hair."

"You did?" She makes a face, apparently remembering the blonde hair.

"I did."

"But just about the blonde hair," she clarifies.

"Right."

"Honey..." He's been resting his hands on her shins while they talk, and he moves them now, starting what he hopes will be a comforting massage.

"I'm not just trying to distract myself," she says immediately, anticipating what he's going to say. "I care about them. Addie and Derek. You know I do."

"I know you do."

"I can think about more than one thing at once, you know. Rumor has it I'm actually fairly intelligent."

"I know that too."

But her breathing is quickening.

He reaches across the length of the swing to cup one soft cheek; she closes her eyes and then a tear splashes onto his hand.

"I just miss her," she whispers. "I miss her so much already, and it's only just begun."

He rearranges them both then, moving her legs off his lap so he can pull her into his arms. Gathering her close, he lets his shirt and his shoulder absorb her tears while he murmurs soothing sounds into her silky hair.

She cries for a while as they rock, purposefully now, and when her tears have stopped falling she stays in his arms for a while, resting against him. He strokes her head, not rushing her, letting her break away on her own timeline. Finally she pulls back and just gazes at him sadly.

He is reminded when she does that up close, her eyes aren't purely blue – they're _mostly_ blue, but with a narrow golden ring around the pupil. The first time he kissed her and noticed that shade of hazel she was hiding, he decided he was in love. What other woman had a secret eye color, one that was just for him?

"Savvy." He strokes her wet cheek. "Grieving … it's a process. There's no rush. You have all the time you need."

She closes her eyes and he feels their absence.

"I thought he would show," she says quietly when she opens them.

 _And we're back to this._

"I know, Sav. You said it, then, too."

He can hear her small voice, see her see her slumped against the wall. _I just really thought he would show._

"Maybe if we had called again…"

 _Derek, you should come._

"Sav … it wasn't our fault."

 _It's Addison. She needs you._

"I know."

He hears Derek's voice, slightly muffled down the line. _She needs you,_ that was what Weiss said. _Why._ That was Derek's reply. There wasn't even a question mark at the end. Just one flat, expressionless word. Weiss remembers feeling slightly taken aback.

 _If Addison needs me she can call me,_ Derek said then _._ That was when Weiss had to struggle to keep his patience. _Really? Because that's not exactly the impression I'm getting._

He considers himself a straightforward guy – blunt, even. Many an opposing counsel would sign on to that characterization, and Derek too probably, but Weiss didn't usually lose his patience with his friend. Not like this. And thinking about the words Derek said just before they hung up … there's a prickle on the back of his neck, still.

"He doesn't know," Savvy says softly, her voice a little husky from crying. "He still doesn't know. Maybe, if you talk to him…."

"We tried that, remember? Didn't work so well." Gently, he brushes her hair back from her face. "You're not going to be happy until he eats crow, are you?"

"Honey." She smiles, bright blue eyes crinkling. "You know we haven't eaten crow on the island in at least a hundred years."

He can't help smiling back, feeling emotion start to thicken his throat. No matter how bad things get, everything is better when she's in his arms. When they're together. He opens his mouth to tell her that when he hears a rattling sound from the low smoked glass table in front of them – Savvy's phone, buzzing.

He releases her so she can reach for the phone.

"I hope it's not Bos calling to say they pitched Derek overboard," she says ruefully, turning the device over in her hand to see who's calling.

Her face changes.

"Oh, it's Bertie. Let me just take this."

She pushes off the swing and starts pacing the porch, automatically skipping the loose floorboard on each circuit.

 _Her secretary_. Weiss is confused for a moment. Bertie has worked for Savvy for years; she's been sensitive and attentive since Savvy's mother's sudden illness and decline. Savvy painstakingly reassigned all her cases and filed everything necessary for leave; it's not like Bertie to call without warning unless …

 _Shit._

.-.-.

Addison is waiting for them on the dock with her hands on her hips and her eyes widen when she sees the state of him. He's reminded, inexorably, of how his mother looked when he and Mark tried to come back in the house after spending a glorious kindergarten afternoon jumping in every mud puddle in the backyard.

"You're soaking wet!"

"I'm fine," he assures her as Savvy's cousin guides the boat in, but she's already glaring at Bos and Beau.

" _What_ did the two of you do?"

"We didn't do anything!" Beau raises his hands innocently, letting Bos take over. "You heard the man, Addie, he's fine."

She's still glaring as Derek prepares to exit the boat; she extends a hand and he takes it, confirming it's the uninjured one first. There's no time for dignity when he's soaking wet and very cold. Very, very cold in certain places that don't like the cold at all.

"Your hand is freezing. _You_ must be freezing."

He can't exactly tell Addison she's off base; the sun is hitting the dock right now and it's wonderfully warming but not enough.

"Derek." Addison is tugging at his wet barn coat, trying to push it off his shoulders. "You need to take off your wet clothes."

"I guess we should give them some privacy, Beau." Boswell winks at Derek and he sighs, backing away from Addison's hands.

"Do you mind?" He ducks as she reaches for his coat again. "I'm not stripping on the dock."

"Derek … what happened out there? You fell out of the boat? Was it okay, I mean –"

"Addison, it's fine, I just want to go change."

She doesn't push it, just nods, but she grips his sleeve in her hand as she tugs him toward the path that will lead them from the dock to Reeds.

"Addison … I'm wet, not injured. I can walk just fine."

He sees a flush rise in her cheeks; she releases his coat, nodding decisively. The walk back to Reeds is all small talk along the path, the kind that would be normal with anyone else _except_ Addison. He tells her what they caught, she tells him what she did in his absence. They're perfectly polite, formally friendly, casually cold.

It's all wrong.

But they're not fighting, so maybe that's something? He's not sure, really. The only thing he's sure about is that he's cold, and that walking in sopping wet clothes … is extremely uncomfortable.

She blocks the door with her body when they get to Reeds.

"Addison…"

"No, you'll get the floors wet and they'll be slippery. Leave your clothes out here."

"Are you just trying to get me naked?"

He says it without thinking, his brain or his mouth or both forgetting that they're not in a position to tease each other anymore, and her face flushes deeply this time.

"Just … go in and bring me a towel, will you?"

She does, and waits until he stares at her pointedly before she ducks back into the room. He strips quickly and efficiently on the flat patio surface, wrapping the towel around his waist and draping his wet clothes wherever seems the least damaging. He'll worry about wringing them out later; now he needs to wash three rivers off him.

There's an outdoor shower – or at least a cube of teak open to the sky with a visible silver arc of faucet, but he's too cold to consider that, so he pushes open the unlocked door to Red Fox and makes the best of the claw-foot tub and the hand-held shower head, trying to warm up.

Wrapped in his robe, he towel-dries his hair while staring at his face in the mirror. He got some sun out on the boat, despite how cold he was by the time the fishing ended; there's color to his face that wasn't there when he left Seattle.

He thinks about Beau and Boswell, the cousin shorthand they exchanged on the boat that seemed like something more.

 _They know something I don't._

It's a disconcerting feeling. They judged him, on the ride. They criticized him, they asked difficult questions, they demanded answers he's not sure they deserved.

But they were almost … decent. Like they weren't taunting him for sport. Like they actually cared what happened to his marriage.

 _Why?_ Why did they care so much? Why did they have their own opinions of the Shepherds' engagement? He has no recollection of meeting Beau before the wedding; if he concentrates hard he can recall seeing Bos a time or two in the city, when he was visiting Savvy, but he would no more expect them to be dishing out relationship advice than for Nancy to weigh in on Savvy's marriage to Weiss.

Okay, that's a bad example, since Nancy weighs in on everything. But it's not the topic that's bothering him – it's how familiar they seem. He's missing something.

 _You weren't supposed to hurt her._

He remembers the question they wouldn't answer – the last time Addison was on the island. With one last towel rub to his drying hair, he steels himself

"Addison." He pushes open the door, a cloud of steam following him into the cooler air of the main room. "We should … talk."

She doesn't respond; she's facing away from him, toward the wide windows that look out on the water.

"Addie, did you hear me?"

When he crosses the room, he sees she's holding her cell phone with a dazed expression on her face.

He tilts his head, trying to catch her eyes. "Addison – what's wrong?"

She draws an audible breath before she focuses her gaze on him. "It's Savvy."

* * *

 _ **TBC.** You hate me - just admit it. SORRY! On that note, who thinks Derek fell overboard of natural causes? I haven't decided. As for enjoying seeing him get dunked ... I imagine that's a higher percentage. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I promise everything will make sense/happen eventually (tm bastardization of Bones). But distractions abound ... speaking of distractions, pretty please review and distract me from my work so I recover from my block? Thank you bunches and happy Friday! _


	9. grace our spirits will deliver

**A/N: Welcome** back to the island and **thank you,** always always always, for reading and sharing your thoughts with me. You guys are the best, and I look forward to your awesome comments and keep them in mind when I'm plotting and writing. Soooooo on that note, I am grounding myself from other stories until I get the next chapter of The Climbing Way out. That, and I'm being semi-consensually separated from my laptop for like ... 36 hours. Not cool. So to make up for it, here's a nice long meaty chapter to keep you island-satisfied until the next time.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 ** _Some Bright Morning_** _  
_ _9\. grace our spirits will deliver_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

"I can't believe she already has the results." Derek shakes his head, and she can tell he's thinking the same thing she is: _hasn't she had enough bad news_?

"She had the test run at Emory as soon as her mother's prognosis was clear," Addison fills him in. "Eat this," she adds, handing him the food she saved for him from lunch.

"No, thanks," he brushes it away.

"You have to eat something. Dinner's not for-"

"Addison, I'm not hungry."

"Fine." She puts the plate back in the little refrigerator. "Then get dressed so we can go. Savvy's waiting for us at the hearth."

Savvy and Weiss are the only ones at the hearth when they get there, standing close together by the firepit facing out at the water and the little wooden dock.

"Sav?" Addison announces their presence quietly as they approach, and Savvy turns around.

"Hi," she says softly, tears in her eyes.

Weiss is rubbing her arm gently, looking helpless. "It's okay, Sav."

"But what if it's not? Addie." Savvy turns pleading blue eyes to her. "Tell him. Don't I need to _do_ something about this? As soon as possible? Instead of being a ... sitting duck?"

"Um…" Addison looks helplessly between Savvy and Weiss, and then to Derek, whose expression reflects neutral concern. "I understand you tested positive overall, but the results need to be interpreted, Sav, and that's why they should really come from a geneticist, in person, so you can-"

"Well, they didn't," Savvy says abruptly. "I pulled some strings. I didn't want to wait." She gives her old friend a shaky smile and Addison is reminded that despite Savvy's sweetly pretty exterior, she's a notoriously fierce advocate, both for her clients and now … for herself.

"There's just a lot going on for you right now, Sav," Addison says gently. "You don't have the results on paper – I haven't had a chance to take a look at them, I don't even know which mutation it –"

"I know it's positive, Addie. Is there a _good_ positive result?"

Addison presses her lips together for a moment. "Sav. You can't take any ... prophylactic steps right now anyway, not on the island. And even then, there are options to discuss."

"You're a doctor. Is that your medical opinion? Addison … " Savvy's voice sounds pleading. "I took the test two weeks ago. I've been waiting and looking into it and I know what my options are. I know increased screenings do nothing for ovarian cancer detection. I knew all along a positive result would mean surgery."

"Savvy," Weiss cuts in. "This is major. We-"

"You don't think I know it's major?"

"I'm just saying, we should talk to someone before we make any decisions."

"I'm talking to Addie right now. And it's _my_ decision."

"Savvy…"

"Addie, please."

"I, uh … I can help you when we get back to Manhattan," she says weakly. "I'll look at the results, we can talk and figure it out when I have the information."

"And you'll help me?"

"With whatever you need, Savvy, you know that." Their eyes lock until Weiss's voice interrupts them.

"Derek," Weiss turns to him and Addison follows his pleading gaze.

"Addison, Savvy doesn't need to think about this right now," Derek intercedes.

She frowns at him. "This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Or you," he retorts.

"Savvy asked my medical opinion, Derek, not yours."

"Addison, this isn't the time," he says firmly.

"Don't yell at her!" Savvy's lips are trembling and all three turn to her now.

"I wasn't…" Derek lifts his hands, his tone helpless. "Savvy, I'm sorry…"

"No, I'm so tired of this." She takes a step back from the group. "I don't want to hear it anymore. I don't want to hear it!"

"Sav," Weiss reaches to put his arms around her but she backs away more.

"Addie, I'm flying home on Thursday." She gives her a meaningful look.

"I'm here for whatever you need," Addison repeats quietly. She glances at Derek, who is looking at Weiss, whose face is conflicted.

"Let's all just take a deep breath," Derek suggests. "Nothing has to be decided right now."

"The two of _you_ don't have to decide anything," Savvy's voice is trembling but she's glaring at Derek and Weiss like the four of them are squared off in tennis doubles.

"Sav, just slow down, baby," Weiss says soothingly; he rests a hand on her arm and she pulls away from him.

Weiss turns to Derek and Addison, pushing a frustrated hand through his curly hair. "We're talking about kids. Did Savvy tell you that we decided we're ready to start trying?"

"Weiss …" Savvy gives him a pleading look. "Don't do this."

"Sav, come on. Remember the names?" His voice is soft. "Corona and Astoria? And Jackson … short for Jackson Heights?"

Savvy's lips quiver and then she's fighting a teary smile. "That's not fair. Stop."

At Addison's expression she sighs. "Weiss had the bright idea to name our kids after cities in Queens."

"Hey, I'm no Beaufort, but that doesn't mean I can't have style," Weiss offers with an exaggerated shrug.

"He's kidding. I mean, I hope he's kidding." Savvy sniffs, wiping a hand across her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this now."

"Good." Weiss nods. "Good, honey, let's not talk about this, we can just put a pin in this until we're back home, okay? Let's focus now on just taking care of you, saying goodbye to your mom-"

" _No!_ "

Weiss's eyebrows lift at Savvy's loud voice.

"No, I don't mean put a pin in _this_ , I mean I don't want to talk about … babies that don't exist. Me, Weiss, I exist. I'm talking about my _life._ "

"No, you're talking about results you haven't even seen, that no doctor has reviewed with you, and you're emotional, and you're-"

"God, that is so sexist. _Emotional._ I'm the emotional one?"

"Sav. Don't do this now. There's so much going on."

Addison exchanges an uncomfortable look with Derek. "Savvy, I think we'll just …"

"No, you stay, they can go. I'm ignoring you," Savvy adds to her husband, turning back to Addison. "You'll do it. When we get back to New York, won't you?"

"I …" Addison looks around helplessly. "Of course, Sav, I'll do whatever you need."

"Derek…" Weiss turns to him, spreading his hands.

"Addison," Derek raises his voice. "This conversation isn't over!"

"Well, it should be," Savvy turns and stalks back toward the path. Weiss follows her. Addison takes a step toward them, stopping when Derek rests a hand on her arm.

"Let them be."

"He's upsetting her." But she doesn't follow Savvy and Weiss, turning instead to walk toward the sandy strip of beach on the other side of the reeds.

"She's upset." Derek footsteps are softly damp behind her in the sand. When she stops to look out at the water, he stops too. "She has reason to be upset. But it's between them, why are you getting involved?"

"Savvy asked me for my medical advice!"

"Since when do you give medical advice without seeing the results?"

"I'm just trying to be there for her," Addison frowns.

"By whipping her up into the worst possible –"

"That's not what I was doing, Derek, I was _being there._ I understand why you wouldn't recognize what that looks like."

"Oh, give it a rest, Addison. Savvy's emotional enough without you making it worse for her."

"There's that word again. You think it's bad that she's expressing herself? Because it's _inconvenient_ for you?"

"You know that's not what I meant. The issue is that she's upset and you're making it worse."

"I'm not making it worse! I'm trying to help!"

"I don't think she should make any decisions yet, that's all I'm saying."

"Well, she couldn't take any action even if she wanted to, since we're on a tiny island without a hospital or even a doctor." She pauses, seeing him giving her a slightly amused look. "I mean, other than the two of us. And I know you think I have a big ego, Derek, but even I wouldn't try to perform surgery on the island with … barbecue tongs."

He's quiet for a moment. "That's quite an image," he says finally.

She smiles a little bit, in spite of herself, then drops to her haunches in the sand.

"Addison?" He looks at her curiously.

"I thought I saw a starfish," she says vaguely, feeling a little dazed.

He offers her a hand up and she takes it.

"I really just want Savvy to be okay," she says softly when she's standing in front of him, sand crunching between their toes.

"I know, Addie, but so does Weiss."

"He hasn't thought about it as much as she has, Derek. You don't understand how fast this can be, how … insidious. I knew Savvy when her aunt died. It was our first year of college. She was so young – only 48. Not even ten years older than Savvy is now." She shudders at the thought.

She realizes she's still holding his hand and releases it. "Genetic testing and prophylactic surgery could have saved her aunt and her mother. That's what Savvy thinks. And it's what she thinks that matters."

"There are two of them in their marriage, Addison."

"But just one of them in Savvy's body. Just one of them with the ticking time bomb."

He doesn't respond.

"I'm going to go change," she says, brushing sandy fingers off on the side of her lightweight flowing skirt. "I'm on dinner shift tonight."

"What about your hand?"

"One-handed. And even if I don't help, I can entertain the others. Shifts are serious business here."

He's beginning to think it will take a lot more visits to the island before he works out all the various rules.

.-.-.

With Addison at the hearth preparing for dinner, Derek finds himself alone, with space to breathe. He sits on the swing on the patio in front of their room, looking out at the water, turning his phone over in his hands. There's a missed call.

He closes his eyes briefly, smells something sweet and floral for just a moment and then it disappears, and it's the salty-green smell of the reeds, the beachy scent drifting up from the water. it's Savvy's frightened face and Addison looking from her, to Weiss, to Derek, and back again. And then Weiss's haunted eyes, because he could lose everything. No matter what happens, something will be lost.

He sends a quick email instead of calling back. _All fine, can't talk._ Neither part is all true but neither part is all false, either, and at the sound of the dinner bell, he leaves his phone on the bedside table in the room.

"Do you recognize our little catches?" Beau grins at him in an almost friendly way at the hearth – there are children hanging onto both his legs, but he's managing to look completely unruffled by it, which even Derek can admit is rather amusing.

The sizzling little fishes taste surprisingly delicious, but then everything on the island is so pungent, from the semi-salty waters lashing the beach and the marshes to the smoky swirls rising from the fire pit. The reeds have their own smell – green, marshy, but also fresh.

"Did you help?"

"I'm injured."

"Convenient."

"Shut up," she says, swatting him with her good hand, which he catches automatically before it can make contact. She's smiling, though.

"I guess he missed you while you were on your shift."

Derek looks over with something between surprise and annoyance. It's Boswell, a troublemaker if he's ever seen one, standing with another blond Derek doesn't recognize.

Addison shifts uncomfortably at Bos's interruption and Derek is annoyed with both of them. Deciding to ignore Savvy's brother, he just plucks an uneaten little fried fish from Addison's plate and pops it into his mouth. Addison is looking at him with an expression he can't quite identify as he chews and swallows, but the rest of dinner proceeds without incident.

When everyone has finished eating and the children are scattered playing in the reeds, the cleared area and the edges of the sandy beach, the adults stay gathered around the hearth. It's a gentle, tired sort of ambience, relatives settling into casual groupings; Derek hears soft bits of conversation rising and falling like waves: discussing Catherine, the island, the rest of the family, even the fish they caught today and will catch tomorrow. It's soothing, even pleasant, Addison distracted by Savvy and no one asking him difficult questions or asking anything of him, really. He can just … be.

His phone shows another missed call when he returns to the room at Reeds.

.-.-.

"Augie. _Augusta,_ would you slow down?" Savvy is chasing her cousin up the path toward the old family cottages; Weiss follows along.

"Sav, honey, can't this wait 'til the morning?" Russ, a sleeping Minna in his arms, turns around with a sigh.

Weiss notices that Augie's husband looks uncomfortable. He's spent a lot of time with Russ over the years; with Savvy and Augie as close as sisters, their husbands get thrown together plenty.

"Augie said wait 'til after dinner," Savvy says stubbornly. "And it's after dinner."

Augie pats her husband's arm. "It's fine, babe. You go on and take her inside, I'll be in in a bit."

"You sure?"

She nods, Russ leans down obligingly and Savvy kisses the top of the little girl's sleeping head. It stays light so long out here, he knows, and it's that strange kind of glow now where the sun is half-sunk and it's grey but also pink, and orange, so many colors it makes your eyes ache.

"Augie." Savvy's hands attach themselves to her hips as soon as Russ and Minna have gone. They're standing on the barely cleared path – he knows the cleared part gets rougher the closer you get to the cottages – waving reeds tickling their ankles. "I need you to listen to me, okay? You _need_ to take the test. I know it's scary, I was scared too. Hell, I'm still scared."

"I'm not scared," Augie says softly.

"Then why won't you do it, Aug?"

"Savvy." Augie has tears in her eyes. "I don't need to take a test."

"You keep saying that, but you _do_ need to," Savvy implores. "It can tell you if you have the gene, and then you can get prophylactic surgery before you get sick. That's what I'm going to do," and she throws Weiss a quick, challenging look that he's not stupid enough to rise to.

"Sav," Augie says quietly.

"All the other girls agreed. Even Cammie and she hates doctors. Look, I know it's hard, Augie, because of your mama."

"That's not why."

"…and you hate hospitals," Savvy adds faintly. "I know. But Aug, the test can tell you if you're likely to get cancer and then … well, then there are precautions you can take."

"No, honey." Augie rests her hand on Savvy's. "Listen to me. Sav, I don't need the test to tell me that."

Savvy stares at her; slowly, Weiss sees Augie nod.

"No, stop it," Savvy's voice breaks, her eyes widening. "No, _no,_ Augie!"

Augie's voice is soft. "I didn't have any symptoms. I was a little tired, but everyone's tired. I just went for a routine-"

"No, it's not true, it's not true." Savvy launches herself at her cousin, gripping her arms. "Tell me it's not true."

"Sav, I'm sorry." Tears are running down Augie's face.

"Tell me!" Savvy shakes her and Weiss steps in, wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her away from her cousin.

"Sav … it's okay." He can feel her shaking against him. "Shh, you need to calm down."

"She's lying, Weiss." Savvy turns a tear-streaked face to him. "She's lying, right? She just doesn't want to have the test."

"Savvy." He kisses the top of her head, his chest clenching at the fear and despair in her eyes, so clear even in the strange light.

"But, Augie, what about Minna?"

"Minna is going to be fine," Augie says quietly. "Minna has a great father. Whatever happens, she'll be okay."

"Let me go," Savvy tugs at Weiss's hold. "Please, it's okay."

He releases her and Savvy launches herself at Augie again but this time it's in a tight hug. Weiss watches sadly as Augie stands still for a moment, then grips Savvy back just as tightly; the cousins hold each other as the sun takes its final over the water, crying together.

.-.-.

"She's only thirty-seven." Savvy's voice is hoarse. She's been crying for what feels like hours, hardly speaking, with breaks only for white lightning and, at Weiss's periodic insistence, water.

"I know, Sav." Weiss strokes her long hair. Savvy's stretched out on the puffy antique couch in their room in her family's cottage, her head in his lap. There's a story about this couch but he can't remember it. There's a story about everything on the island, in his experience. Right now, though, his whole story is his wife.

Long periods of silence keep ensuing, where he thinks she might be asleep, and then she'll speak in that soft, broken voice that feels like it's ripping right through his heart.

"She might be fine." Savvy turns to look up at him. "Right, honey?"

"That's right," Weiss says quietly, stroking her hair, trying not to think about how quickly Savvy's aunt and mother were lost. "Augie's getting good care, Sav."

"Minna's only three years old. She needs her." Her voice cracks on the last word.

"I know. Sit up for a minute, baby, have a little more water."

"I need more white lightning."

"Let's start with the water." He helps her sit up; she leans against him, exhausted, and he rubs her arm.

"Weiss … you get it now, don't you, you _get_ that I need the surgery."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about this…"

"No, I need to!"

"Sav," he lowers his voice the same degree as her raised one. "We're not going to argue about this now. Please. One thing at a time."

"it's already more than one thing. It's already too many things." Her voice cracks and she pulls away from him, reaching for the mason jar of white lightning on the table in front of her.

He waits for her to take a sip before he detaches the jar gently from her fingers and replaces it with a glass of water.

"You'll support me. If I want to do this, you'll support me, right?"

"Savvy, I will support you no matter what you want to do, that's what I signed on for … right?" He turns the question back to her, playing with the fingers of her left hand, running his own fingers over the familiar shape of her rings. "But you don't have to make any decisions right now. You got a lot of news today. Let's not rush into anything."

"I don't want to rush," she whispers. "Don't you get it? I'm not the one rushing. I'm the one being rushed."

She takes her hand out of his and reaches up instead, holding his face, her eyes with their ring of surprise hazel begging for understanding, so he tries his best.

.-.-.

"Addison?" He rubs his eyes, blinking at the pool of moonlight drifting in from the open curtains. Addison is standing in front of the window; there's an empty space in bed next to him. "What are you doing? It's late."

"I can't sleep."

He squints a little bit into the light.

"Savvy's cousin, Augie … she's sick, Derek."

"I know."

"She's only thirty-seven."

"That's terrible."

"With ovarian cancer, you know most women aren't even symptomatic until it's started to spread and then it's too late for..." She's still staring out the window and doesn't turn around. "Sav was already saying she wanted prophylactic surgery if she tests positive and here's her first cousin … "

"Addison." He rubs his eyes. "I still don't think she needs to think about the surgery now."

"Well, she's thinking about it. Augie's younger than she is."

"I know."

"She's younger than I am."

"Addison..." He pushes back the covers.

She turns around now. "What?"

"If you're not going to let me sleep, I might as well have some moonshine."

"White lightning," she corrects him, but she doesn't disagree.

She retrieves a mason jar from one of the closet shelves. "Some of Sav's family likes it chilled, but I think it goes down more easily at room temperature," she shrugs, and Derek takes the glass jar from her to study the deceptively innocent-looking clear liquid.

He unscrews the lid tentatively and sniffs, his eyes tearing almost instantly.

"How strong is this stuff?"

Addison takes the jar back, screws up her face in anticipation, and swallows a mouthful. He can see exactly where the liquid is in her throat by her expressions and then finally she gasps.

"It's … pretty strong," she says hoarsely, laughing a little before she starts coughing.

"Maybe we shouldn't …"

"Just get some water," she advises him, so he does.

.-.-.

"This stuff tastes horrible." He's seated on one of the round little poufs by the windows in their room – there's something child's-tea-party about it, maybe that it's so low to the ground his knees are worryingly close to his ears. She's across from him on the other pouf, the easier to keep swapping the mason jar back and forth.

"I don't know," she muses, taking another sip and pursing her lips. "I think you get used to it."

She hands him the mason jar and he examines it for a moment, then lets the clear liquid burn its way down his throat and into his belly.

"What's she like?"

"Who?" Derek looks up at Addison's abrupt question.

"Your intern. Meredith." She looks at him over the top of the mason jar, lips curling in a half laugh. "Mere…dith." She pronounces the name again, more slowly this time. "God, I can't believe you're dating an intern. Like the ortho attending when we were interns, you remember? Dr. Mann? Remember what we called him?"

"Dirty Old Mann," Derek mutters obediently, "but in fairness he was asking for it with that name."

"Now you're the dirty old … Shepherd." She laughs.

"Hey." He points his mason jar at her. "You're a … manwhore lover."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Neither does willingly getting into bed with Mark."

She considers this. "Dirty Old Shepherd," she says again in response, but there's no venom in her voice. She sounds almost amused.

"I didn't know she was an intern when we met, okay?"

"You thought she was … what, a resident? A very, very young attending?"

"I didn't know she was a doctor at all. We met at –"

"At…" she prompts him.

"At a bar," he says tightly.

She covers her mouth with both hands, eyes huge over the tips of her fingers. "A _bar_?"

He doesn't say anything.

"You picked her up in a bar and she just happened to turn out to work at the same hospital…" at his expression her eyes widen even further. "Work … _for you_? Oh my god, she's a surgical intern, isn't she. You were really out of dating practice, honey."

"Don't call me honey. And it was my first date in sixteen years."

"Fine, you were really out of dating practice, _Derek_."

"Do you really get a high horse when you slept with my best friend?" He raises an eyebrow at her, or tries, but his whole face feels loose from the clear liquid that's burning his throat.

"At least I didn't pick him up in a bar."

"You didn't need to because he was my best friend."

She nods. "True. So … " She takes another long sip of white lightning, legs tucked up under her on the bench now.

"Meredith is … she's … what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Tell me something about her. What she's like."

"She's … nice. She's lovely."

"Nice. So I guess you went for something different this time."

"What's _Mark_ like, Addison?" He turns it around. "The Mark I know sleeps with anything that moves, he has a good heart but it's way less in charge of his brain than other parts are."

She looks like she's considering the question. "Mark is … distracting," she says finally.

"Well, so's Meredith. Except she's not an unrepentant manwhore."

Addison lifts an eyebrow. "How'd you meet her again?"

"Don't push it, Addie." But he's smiling a little as he pours her more white lightning.

.-.-.

"I can't sit here anymore." She looks as uncomfortable as he does, her long legs folded practically in two to fit on the pouf. "Let me just …" but she loses her balance when she tries to get up, laughing, then cursing when her injured hand strikes the hardwood floor.

"Don't break anything else," he advises, suddenly amused.

"I haven't broken anything in the first place. Can you just … " she indicates her supine body, surprisingly similar right now to a bug on its back. He has some difficulty getting up himself, but once he's on his feet he makes his way over to her and offers both hands to pull her up.

It's not easy.

"You're dead weight," he informs her as he hauls her to her feet.

"I love you too," she jokes and then freezes when she realizes what she's said.

"Let's sit," he interjects quickly before he's forced to dissect her slip and they manage to squeeze onto the antique padded bench in the middle of the room. It has an upholstered curl at either end to support them somewhat, and a flat seat of swirling brocade fabric. He traces the pattern absently with one finger.

"This is a marriage bench, I think," Addison murmurs.

"Don't those have storage space?"

"I don't know," she admits. "Derek … "

Her eyes are pale in the moonlight; he can see himself reflected. There's no room on this bench. There's no room on this _island._

"Have some more white lightning," he says quickly.

"Right." She takes a long swallow, and barely flinches, and he follows suit.

"You know, this really does get better with age. I mean, time." He looks thoughtfully at the mason jar.

She laughs. "Yeah, I think I … got used to it. It's actually pretty good."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I don't know…" she makes a face at him over the top of the mason jar. "Can you?"

"I guess I don't know."

" _In vino veritas_ …"

"True, but this is definitely not vino." He nods at the white lightning.

"Also true." She aims the mason jar at him, smiling. "It works though. I do feel better. You know, this island really might be magical."

"Addison."

"Yeah. Okay, ask."

"When was the last time you were here?"

"Where?"

"Here. On the island."

"Oh. Um … ages ago." She pauses. "Why do you ask?"

"Just something Beau said…"

"Now you're listening to Beau? I guess the island really _is_ magical."

"Really."

"Yeah, really. If you even knew … but you don't believe it, do you?" She's laughing a little. "Even if you feel … magical?" She leans in toward him, not quite balanced. She's tipsier than he is, he thinks, which is impressive considering her normal level of alcoholic tolerance. "Do you?"

"I don't know," he responds. He touches her shoulder briefly. "Addison … you okay?"

"I'm … yeah. I'm very okay."

"I mean … how drunk are you?"

"The _perfect_ amount."

"Clearly."

"No, really. I feel … better, so it must be … wait, why?" She raises her eyebrows at him. "How drunk do I … look?" And she's very close to him all of a sudden.

He laughs a bit, nervously. "What are you doing?" Danger signals start to go off in his head.

"Nothing," she purrs.

The buzzing of his phone interrupts them, vibrating against the wooden bedside table.

"Do you need to get that?" Her whisper is millimeters from his mouth and when he doesn't move she leans forward and captures his lips with hers.

He freezes.

She feels the same against him, her lips soft and chilly from the refrigerated moonshine, and her long hair falls into his face like it always does, covering both of them.

And then, in spite of himself, he thaws. For a moment. Just for a moment he kisses her back; when she deepens the contact, the contrast of her cold lips and warm mouth hits him like an electrical current.

That's when he comes to his senses.

"No." He starts to push her back gently, and then a little more firmly when she resists. "Addie. No."

"We're married," she whimpers, her forehead touching his. "Derek, we're still married."

"I know that. But you're drunk, and you're …"

"So? You're not exactly sober yourself," and she laughs a little, breathily, as he eases her away from him. "Derek, please …"

"Addison."

But she's reaching for him again, one of her familiar hands skimming over his jaw, and neither of them is laughing now. This close he can smell the white lightning on her breath and the familiar scent in her hair of the shampoo she decants into tiny glass travel bottles.

"We can't."

"Why?"

"It's a bad idea," Derek says as she inches closer.

"Why?"

"Because it is."

"But why?"

"Because it _is_ , Addison, damn it, do you _ever_ stop nagging-"

And then neither of them is talking because she's fastened her lips to his again, and she tastes like white lightning, and her weight is falling into him, warm and pliant. He's not thawing now, he's melting _–_ and this time he doesn't push her away.

* * *

 _...and we fade to black. TBC. In lieu of hate mail, please send dark chocolate and/or wine. Review like you're Wonder Woman and the review button is Aries. Or whatever symbolism you need to make it happen. I promise I'll update as soon as I can, once I'm back in civilization and the The Climbing Way has moved forward!_

 _PS The scene with Savvy and Augie was inspired by an episode of Strong Medicine (yes, I watched like two seasons of that, whatever) involving two siblings testing for the Huntington's gene. It was better than mine, but I did my best._


	10. bright shining as the sun

**A/N:** Another long chapter to make up for another long gap. Sorry, guys. This story is moving according to plan (for once) but we're starting with a flashback this time. It's in italics, and I know you would have known what was going on, but I'm telling you anyway. **Thank you a trailerload** (brownstoneload?) for all the reviews and comments. I am so happy you're enjoying this story and I hope you like the new chapter!

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 ** _Some Bright Morning_** _  
_ _10\. bright shining as the sun_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _The buzzer interrupts a good-natured argument over whose preferred Thai restaurant is superior. Weiss teases her that she ordered so many times from her spot that the doorman doesn't even call up anymore._

" _But see how fast they are," that's what she says as she pulls open the door, "which is why mine is…" and the words die on her lips when she sees it's not Thai food at all. It's Addison, looking very unlike the Addison most people see – Savvy has seen her like this before, but only a few times and not for a while now. Addie's wearing an old jacket too large for her that's clearly Derek's, all her hair stuffed into a battered fishing hat. Her face is free of makeup, blotchy and swollen, her eyes ringed with red._

" _Addie, what happened?" she breathes, reaching out a hand to her friend._

" _Derek left me," she says in a very small voice, and pulls off the hat. The hair that tumbles out is shockingly bleached blonde, irritated skin along her hairline testifying to how recently she must have done this._

 _Savvy takes a moment to collect herself – so many questions, so much shock, before calling out to her husband. "Weiss? We're going to need some wine, baby." She glances at Addison again. "A lot of wine," she amends. "Come in, honey."_

 _Addison cries, then drinks, then cries and then drinks some more before Savvy decides there's a fine line between soothing and enabling._

 _Either way, Addie ends upon her knees in the powder room off the foyer, Savvy holding back her disturbingly bleached hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other, their positions reminiscent of more than a few parties in their college days._

 _She finally falls asleep on the floor with her head in Savvy's lap. She's cross-legged on the cold blue-and-cream tile Addison helped her choose when they bought the place, resting one hand on the top of Addie's bleached-blonde head and the other on her back. She can feel it moving faintly, hitching, like she's still crying in her sleep._

" _Honey … that can't be comfortable." Weiss is standing in the doorway watching them, gaze laden with concern._

" _it's not." Savvy looks up at her husband with tears in her eyes. "But it's worse for her. What are we going to do?"_

 _Her husband crouches next to her and palms her cheek gently, moving some of her hair off her face. "I don't know what we can do, Sav."_

" _Can you talk to Derek?"_

" _I can try. Of course I can try." Weiss looks grim for a moment. "It didn't work last time, though."_

" _Just try," she pleads._

" _Sav, I still don't understand what happened. Do you?"_

 _She shakes her head. "I can't get that much out of her. All she keeps saying is that Derek left her."_

 _They speak in hushed voices, Addison unmoving on the fluffy cream-colored rug._

" _Did she say why?"_

 _Savvy shakes her head. "Mostly … she just cried."_

 _Weiss's mouth is turned down at the corners, looking at Addison with a worried expression on his face._

" _They'll work this out, right?" Savvy hears her voice shaking and instinctively she pulls Addie closer to her._

" _I hope so." Weiss moves into the bathroom and drops to his haunches beside the two women. "You know things were…" His voice trails off._

" _But this is different."_

 _Weiss follows her gaze to Addie's crumpled form and she can tell what he's thinking. Different … but not unfamiliar._

" _Let me help you with her," he offers._

 _Together they manage to prop a heavily sleeping Addison into a somewhat seated position,_

 _Then Weiss lifts her, grunting under her weight. "Damn it. She's a lot heavier than she looks. Guess alcohol weighs more than blood."_

" _Or maybe someone needs to work out more," Savvy teases him, resting a hand on his bicep._

" _And take time away from my queen? Never." They smile at each other and then Savvy sees her husband's smile fade just as hers does. Making a rueful face, he hefts Addison a little higher in his arms and carries her out of the bathroom._

 _They bring her to the guest room that Savvy always keeps ready – her mama wouldn't hear of anything different, that's just plain rude – and Weiss sets her on the bed, Savvy pulling off her shoes. They peel the old coat off her arms together._

 _She doesn't stir until Savvy stands up from the bed, the mattress shifting a little, and then Addison's eyes open._

" _Sav?" Her voice is a croak._

" _I'm right here, honey." Savvy sits back down on the side of the bed and pushes some of the weird blonde hair off her face. Addie looks like hell, pale under the tear blotches on her face. Hastily, Weiss pushes over the wastebasket just in case._

" _I think she's done." Savvy rests a soothing hand on her belly. "Addie? You're going to be okay."_

" _No, I'm not," she says so softly it's almost inaudible._

 _Savvy strokes her hair. "Remember when you said that after the Harvard-Yale game when you couldn't decide which tailgate to do so you did both and you were so drunk that you lay down in the quad and said you were going to make snow angels in the leaves because you were dying so you needed angels?"_

 _Addie's lips – they look dry and cracked – move a little almost like she's trying to smile._

" _You were so sick. You said you weren't going to be okay. But you were okay." Addison's alcohol tolerance is legendary, but even she has her limits._

" _Look, Addie, whatever happened between you and Derek … it'll work out. It always does."_

 _Addison's eyes are bleak. She reaches for Savvy and when she leans forwards obligingly, Addie whispers, "Sav … I slept with Mark," and then she bursts into noisy tears again._

 _Savvy holds her tightly, both their bodies shaking with her sobs. Addison clings when she tries to shift a little to stretch her back. "Please don't go."_

" _I'm not going anywhere," Savvy soothes. She glances at Weiss. "I guess I'll, uh…"_

 _He nods, looking helplessly at Addison's weeping form. Finally, he rests a hand on the top of her head and then takes his leave._

 _Addison can't seem to stop crying. "Sav … it's over … I've ruined everything." Her voice hitches._

" _No. You two … you can survive this. You're Addison and Derek," she reminds her._

" _He's gone."_

" _Where?"_

" _He wouldn't tell me."_

" _He's blowing off steam," Savvy suggests. Her mind is racing. Addison slept with Mark? How – why – she has so many questions, so many emotions tumbling around inside of her._

" _He left his ring," Addie whispers and Savvy feels her heart clench. It's about the rings._

" _Try to sleep, Addie. You know what my mama always says – Everything will look better in the morning, and if it doesn't …"_

"… _then at least you lived 'til the morning," Addison finishes in a husky, tear-choked voice._

 _Savvy nods, sending up a quick prayer, one that she hopes is strong enough to make it all the way out of her apartment and down the coastline. All the way to the only place she knows that's never let her down._

 _Just one more time, she thinks, her fingers clenching like she's still holding it in her hand. You've done it before. Just work your magic for her one more time. After all, the island knows when something is meant to be._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

A loud clanging rips into her skull and it feels like someone is hammering her eyelids open.

"Make it stop," she moans around the cotton in her mouth, her pulse thrumming at her temples. She's vaguely aware that she's sweating, fabric sticking to her midsection.

But the bell just keeps going. Is it a fire alarm? She weighs the risks of dying against the pain of getting closer to the piercing noise.

If she dies, at least her headache will go away.

She pries her eyelids open with some effort, groaning when hot white sunlight pierces her vision. She's staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, a bamboo fan with a brass chain blurring slightly, and her head is hanging slightly off the end of … a bed, presumably. Where the hell is she? The faint smell of salt wafts in front of her nostrils. Are they in the Hamptons? Is this too many martinis on the deck and …

At the thought of a martini her stomach suddenly clenches and she manages to heave herself to her feet, ignoring the prone body on the other side of the quilt, desperate for relief and makes it to the bathroom just in time. Kneeling in front of the bowl, she hangs on to porcelain as tightly as she can and hopes she can save a little bit of her stomach lining.

"Make it stop," she moans again. "My head is killing me."

She hears a voice in response. "Can you please … shut … up. You're worse than the bell."

He doesn't sound much better than she does.

She's moaning. "Only if you can make the room stop spinning."

"Can't you keep it down in there?"

"I am _sick_ ," she chokes out. "How about a little sympathy?"

"You're hungover," he says dismissively, "not sick." But he says it from the doorway of the bathroom, where he's apparently managed to get to his feet as well. He's wearing boxers and nothing else, his hair sticking up all over his head like he fell asleep on a spinning wheel. There are circles under his eyes, dark on skin the color of oatmeal.

Before she can say anything else she's bent over the toilet again. Finally she feels like she's finished; she flushes and sits back against the clawfoot tub, breathing heavily. There's no way anything is left in her now.

Derek sits on the edge of the tub, looking down at her. She accepts the glass of water he offers and takes a tentative sip. It stays down, cooling her burning throat. She tries to remember how they got here.

"We're on the island," she realizes.

"We're on the island," he confirms. "What the _hell_ is in that … concoction Savvy's family makes?"

"Alcohol," she groans. "Lots and lots of alcohol."

He moves some of her sweaty hair off her face and she wonders if her eyes look as exhausted as his. "Are you going to be okay? Because I heard we're the only doctors on the island … and I may not be as far gone as you are but I'm not really in top shape either."

"I'm … okay." She takes a deep, steadying breath, and is relieved to note that her stomach doesn't turn over. She's exhausted, and holding herself upright is starting to feel like a lot of work. She can't help but notice there's a bare leg just next to her – he's sitting above her on the rim of the clawfoot tub – and then she can't seem to stop her head from sloping down to rest against his thigh. It's warm under her cheek and the release of pressure from her neck feels good. Hopefully he won't shove her off.

He doesn't. After a few moments his hand comes to rest on her head, and then his fingers dig into her scalp like he used to when she got headaches.

She closes her eyes, immensely grateful and feeling more human than she has since the bell woke her. The feel of his thigh against her cheek is soothing and she lifts her hand absently to touch his skin.

And then it all comes slamming back into her mind.

"Derek!" She pulls away, almost losing her balance, and he hauls her back upright.

"What?"

"What _happened_ last night?" She looks down at her tank top. She's wearing the same soft pants she was wearing yesterday, she's not naked, and he's not naked either, _strictly speaking,_ but only wearing boxers …

"Not much," Derek says, looking at her.

"Really?" She's remembering the night in a haze of colors, sounds, sensations. She can recall his lips against hers, the feel of his hands on her back, her arms, the way his body felt underneath hers, and then … nothing.

"Really," he confirms.

"Oh." She looks down at herself, feeling her cheeks flush as she recalls the way she pressed herself against his body, all but throwing herself at him. "Well … why not?"

Derek studies her face. "You're as modest as ever, aren't you."

"I'm just asking! I mean, we were drunk, and we … started to, didn't we? I mean, we-"

"If you must know," he interrupts her, "it turns out you have far less tolerance for … white lightning … than you let on. I haven't seen you like that since Med Ball when you threw up over the side of the Circle Line and Mark and I had to carry you fifteen blocks before we found a cab that would take us."

"Oh." Her cheeks flush further. "Sorry."

"Don't mention it," he says, his tone somewhere between lightness and sarcasm.

"But you're … naked. Or, you know, almost naked."

"You threw up on my clothes," he says matter-of-factly.

Oh, god. "Sorry," she says again, looking around.

"I already washed them, they're drying outside."

"Oh," she says again. "Okay. So we really didn't…"

"No," he says firmly. "We really didn't. Thank god."

"Thank god," she echoes.

He looks down at her. "I wouldn't want you to be unfaithful to Mark," and he says _Mark_ the way their exterminator says _roach._

"And I wouldn't want you to be unfaithful to your _intern._ "She pauses. "Are the two of you even exclusive? You know the young people these days, they date, but they're not exclusive. At least that what my interns tell me, but then again I'm not sleeping with them."

"I'm not listening to you," he says loudly.

"That always means you are," she reminds him, and she attempts to smirk but the moment is lost when her stomach clenches and she doubles over.

"Addison?"

"I'm okay." She manages not to throw up, and her stomach has almost settled when bells start ringing loudly again – but in a different rhythm this time.

"Oh, no." She pulls at his hand. "We have to go. Derek, that's the late bell."

"The late bell?"

"The late bell. If we're the last ones to breakfast, then we-" She stops talking. "Let's just hope we're not the last ones."

.-.-.

They're the last ones.

"Shades of Shame," Beau says solemnly when they've finally made their way to the hearth, handing each of them a pair of dark glasses.

" _Shades of Shame?_ " Derek turns them over in his palm as a throng of blond children watch with open-mouthed appreciation.

"Just put them on," Boswell instructs, shaking his head. "They're to remind everyone you couldn't be bothered to get to breakfast on time _but_ … they also help with the hangover," and he whispers that part. "They help with the headache," he adds at full volume.

Derek slides them onto his face and immediately feels better as the sun's glare is dimmed. "Thanks," he says.

"Don't thank us yet. The Shades of Shame are just the beginning."

"Aw, don't be too hard on them, Bos." Beau is grinning. "You know Yankees can't handle white lightning."

"I don't make the rules!" Boswell lifts both hands innocently.

"What rules?" Derek glances from one Beaufort to the other, disliking the way he has to tilt his head back slightly to meet their eyes. Why do they have to be so tall?

"Oh, you'll see. Sav!" Boswell turns away and Derek sees Savvy approaching. She links her arm through Addison's.

"Derek wants to know the rules," Boswell tells his sister.

Savvy looks tired, but rested, Derek notes.

"Just nice to them, Bos," Savvy says firmly, looking from Addison, who is also wearing a pair of Shades of Shame, to Derek.

"I don't make the rules, Sissy!"

He leaves the siblings to debate their fate, wandering toward the smell of coffee.

"Mister Derek!"

He looks down to see a blond boy who looks around seven or eight – then again, considering the height gene in this family, maybe he's a newborn. He's holding out a tin plate with a slab of thick toasted bread, a pile of creamy-looking eggs, and several rashers of bacon. Derek's stomach turns.

"Thank you, um…"

"Wilson."

"Wilson. Right. That's, uh, that's nice of you but I'm not hungry."

"But my mama says _this_ ," and he indicates the bowl, "is the best cure for headache."

Derek glances over to where the boy is looking, and sees the cousin he can't help thinking of as the pig-farmer-underwear-model watching them. She raises her eyebrows at him, and then smiles sweetly.

"Your mama is right," Derek concedes. "Thank you, Wilson," and he takes the bowl, prepared to confront his hangover.

"Can I share?" He looks up to see Addison at his side. He can't see her eyes behind the dark glasses.

"I don't know." He holds the bowl just out of her reach. "Are you going to throw up on me again?"

"No promises … but I'll try not to."

"I guess that's all I can ask." He sits on one of the rough log benches around the fire pit and she sits down next to him. They take turns scooping out greasy fingerfuls of egg, bacon and bread – the whole hearth smells smoky and spicy and rich. It's a messy endeavor but three or four bites in he starts to feel a bit more human.

"Coffee," he croaks, suddenly realizing part of the reason for his headache.

"Oh no ... I forgot the mug." Addison's shoulders slump.

"That's okay, we can just …" Derek glances around. He's willing at this point to just put his mouth on the carafe and suck down whatever caffeine is left.

"Here, you can use mine."

Derek looks up to see Savvy's cousin Augie, who looks enough like her to be a sister instead. She's holding out a mug of black coffee.

" _Thank you,_ " Addison breathes, taking it from her and swallowing what looks like all of it in about three gulps. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"And people say New Yorkers have no manners." Augie takes the log bench below theirs, smiling at them. "How are y'all feeling – other than shamed, and …" She glances around, apparently deciding the children are occupied, "…hungover?"

"We're fine," Addison assures her, though Derek thinks her faintly green complexion isn't particularly reassuring. "Augie," she says softly, and Derek hears her voice break.

"No. Don't do it." Augie holds up a hand. "This isn't _my_ funeral," she says pointedly, and Derek winces at what he's come to recognize as the blunt – and rather black – Beaufort sense of humor. "And I won't have anyone acting like it is. That goes for Savannah too, and I've told her as much."

Addison nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." She rests a hand on Addison's leg. "Just be … regular. You want a refill?"

"I can get it."

Augie stands up and studies Addison for a moment. "I don't know if you can, actually. You'd better stay seated for a little longer. Black again?"

"Cream, please. This cup's for him."

Augie nods and heads toward the giant, bubbling coffee percolator.

Coffee and what can only be called a bowl of grease do the trick, and Derek can tell Addison is feeling almost as much better as he is by the time breakfasts winds to a slow, sunny halt. Time seems flexible on the island – late breakfast bells and Shades of Shame aside – and the meal ends as every other one has: vaguely, even gently, with various groups breaking off to talk, reminisce, scatter down the beach. Children run through the reeds and poke in the golden sand beyond. Derek can see a few blond heads at the water's edge, crouching down and then standing up again.

"What are they doing?"

Addison glances over at him. "Looking for starfish, probably."

"Starfish?"

"Yeah, it's kind of a ... thing." She shrugs a little and when he's silent she keeps going. "They wash up on the island very rarely, um, and when they do, you can make a wish on them and put them back in the ocean. _Give to get_. They say if it's meant to be it will come true. A long time ago, I … " she stops talking. "Sorry, this probably sounds really stupid."

"It doesn't."

She glances at him.

He considers her words, _a long time ago._ "Addie … the last time you were on the island-"

"Hey, Shameful Shepherds! Time to pay the piper."

Derek looks up at the loud voice. Boswell is standing in front of them, hands propped on his hips, looking nothing short of gleeful.

"Pay the piper?" Derek wishes his voice could sound a little less faint.

"Oh, yeah. The Shades of Shame were nothing compared to what you'll have to do next."

.-.-.

"Dish duty," Addison says bravely.

"Dish duty," Derek repeats.

The words sound so innocuous considering they're standing in what feels like a giant cement prison cell – _the warehouse,_ that's what they call it, they have a name for everything, with a sink the size of two bathtubs bubbling mounds of foam, a huge handheld faucet, and elbow length black rubber gloves that make him feel like an alien.

"How many dishes does one family need? How many people are here, anyway? They seem to multiply," he adds before she can answer. _And half of them seem to be Boswell or Beau_ , but he doesn't say that part out loud.

"There aren't _that_ many." Addison looks around, then her face seems to fall. "Okay, there are a lot. But there were a lot of dishes when we'd go to your mother's, too," she reminds him.

He tries to summon an image of the kitchen at a Shepherd family gathering.

"Oh." She seems to read his expression. "I forgot, you'd have to actually _wash_ a dish to know that, but your mother preferred for you to relax while the rest of us washed."

"I know how to wash dishes." He reaches indignantly into the giant sink and pulls up a greasy-looking metal bowl. His stomach turns, but he pumps out some sticky green soap and reaches for the flexible metal faucet head. "Where's the water?"

"What do you mean?"

He turns the handheld faucet around, peering into it. "I mean, how do I turn on the-" and the rest of his sentence turns into a garbled shout as ice cold water shoots out of the faucet into his face.

"Addison!"

"Sorry!" Addison is standing in front of him when his vision clears. "I didn't mean to! It's a foot pump, I didn't realize you were holding the thing."

"Of course I was holding the thing, that's why I wanted to turn on the water!"

"Well, why would you aim the thing at your face?"

"It's not a gun!"

"You yelled loudly enough that it _seemed_ like one," she retorts, sounding amused.

"It was cold," he snaps. "It was _very_ cold." He pauses. "Hey, Addison. You said it was a foot pedal."

"Yes." She looks up. "Why –"

Her scream is even louder than his.

Very satisfying.

"You ass!" She gasps as she wipes streams of water off her face. "I didn't splash you on purpose!"

"But you have, in the past," he reminds her, "many times." Many pools, many lakes. The ocean. "Consider this payback."

"Oh, we're on payback now?"

He doesn't answer. She seems to be sizing him up, but he has the faucet in hand – facing the sink – and he's blocking the foot pedal, so he feels safe, unless she has some other plan.

Looking him right in the eye, she reaches into the massive sink and scoops out a handful of foamy white soap bubbles.

"Don't you dare."

"Or what?"

He aims the faucet at her. "Or I'll shoot."

They face off for a few long moments and then she draws her hand back, preparing to throw. His foot darts toward the pedal, and at the same time white foamy suds hit his face, she ducks and the stream of cold water hits the opposite wall instead of her face.

He sets down the flexible faucet to wipe the soap off his face. "Very mature."

"You splashed me first!" And she darts in quickly to grab the flexible faucet.

"Oh, I don't think so." He grabs it too, and they wrestle back and forth for a few moments until he lets go without warning and she skids backwards on the soapy floor.

He grabs her before she can fall.

"That was a dirty trick, Derek," she scowls as he pulls her upright. "The floor is cement!"

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I didn't think you'd actually fall."

She looks a little shaken up, and he feels bad. "Addie…"

And then another glob of soap hits him right between the eyes.

"Really, Addison?"

"You almost cracked my skull!"

"I _saved_ your skull!"

"Yeah, _after_ you almost cracked it!"

He grabs a handful of soap and flings it at her instead of answering. Most of it lands in her long hair.

"Derek. Cut it _out._ "

He raises his eyebrows. "You want a truce?"

She studies his face for a moment, then grabs two handfuls of suds and throws them at him. He stands there with soap dripping down his chin and soaking into his shirt and she smiles sweetly.

" _Now_ I want a truce," she says.

"Yeah? Too bad. I withdraw my offer."

With that, both of them reach into the sink at the same time, and then he can't see much except bubbles as she shoves handfuls of soap into his hair. In response, he channels his sisters' notorious water fights at campgrounds and grabs her, shoving a handful of soap down the back of her shirt before she can wriggle away.

" _Derek_!"

"Sorry about that," he says. "I'll help you ... rinse it off."

And then he grabs the flexible faucet, but she blocks the foot pedal, then reaches behind her for more soap. He traps her against the sink, holding the flexible faucet out of reach and attempting to reach around her with his leg for the foot pedal. She shoves at his chest, demanding that he release her and then finally just dumping a handful of soap down the front of his shirt.

…which is worth it because in the melee he manages to move her away from the foot pedal and then his foot is hovering over it.

"Derek!"

He holds her in place with his body and one of his hands while he aims the flexible faucet at her.

"Don't shoot," she pleads, half-laughing.

He considers it. "What'll you give me?"

She looks up at him, a little shorter in her flat shoes. "I don't know, what do you want?"

Her eyes are very blue and he's suddenly conscious of how close he's standing to her. He still has her pressed up against the sink, one of his hands holding one of her arms, the other tight against her body on the other side. He feels his breath start to quicken in spite of himself and sees the moment that registers in her eyes. Her face softens slightly and she tilts her chin. Not quite sure he can trust her not to try to throw him into the sink, he nonetheless inclines his own head forward just a little. Her lips are slightly parted; there's a strand of wet hair plastered to one of her cheeks and soap suds decorating her throat. And there's very little space left between them now. Maybe two inches. Maybe an inch. Maybe even less …

"I see you're getting a lot of work done in here."

They both turn around at the unexpected interruption, jumping apart, more suds splattering off each of their gloves. Suds are running down both their faces, dark spots of water all over their clothing, Addison's wet hair stuck to her soapy cheeks. Derek can't see his own hair but knows it's matted with soap. Derek coughs out some soap while Addison whacks his back with her rubber glove.

Boswell looks from one of them to the other. "You okay?"

"We're fine," Derek says hoarsely, coughing again, and Addison nods.

"All right, then. I brought y'all something that should help, anyway." He holds out a mason jar. "Hair of the dog," he announces.

"Oh, no." Derek takes a step back. "I'm never drinking that stuff again."

"You should if you want to feel better. It's diluted," He assures him. "Look, the only cure for white lightning is white lightning."

Derek glances nervously at Addison, who looks resigned.

"Island drink, island cure." Boswell holds out the mason jar again. "Go on."

They each shed their long black rubber gloves to take a few sips until Boswell finally seems satisfied. He leaves the rest of the mason jar on one of the counters lining the warehouse. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he adds casually over his shoulder as he leaves.

Derek waits for the door to close behind Boswell before he turns to Addison. "Do you think Savvy would mind if I drowned him?"

Addison laughs and Derek finds himself enjoying the sound.

"I think Casey would mind," she says.

Oh, right. "I still haven't met her," Derek says.

"Who?"

"Casey," Derek says. "Boswell's wife?"

Her brow is furrowed. "What do you…"

"Boswell mentioned her when we were out fishing."

"Oh," Addison says again. "Well, I'll just – introduce you next time Casey's in the same place we are."

He nods. "We should probably get back to the dishes if we ever want to get out of here."

She gives him a sidelong glance. "I don't know," she says quietly. "I kind of like it in here."

"Addie ... you're covered in soap."

"Well, so are you."

"True." He leans back against the sink, not really minding the water anymore. Then she's standing in front of him, and his hand rises almost of its own accord to play with the belt loop closest to him on her jeans. She lowers her eyes, watching him. His thumb traces the seam on her pocket, her skin warm through the denim, and he hears her let out a breath.

"Derek…"

"Yeah?" He moves his hand slightly, the jut of her hip filling his palm.

But whatever she was going to say is interrupted by a buzzing sound.

That he realizes is coming from her jeans.

"You're being paged," he teases her, pulling her closer by her belt loop to reach into her pockets. "The question is from _where_."

He pretends to frisk her and she's protesting but laughing at the same time. "No, Derek … " She makes one last attempt to pull away but he captures the blackberry from her back pocket and holds it up triumphantly.

And then sees the name on the screen.

 _MARK_

Revulsion courses through him, his heart speeding up for an entirely different reason.

"Derek-"

He tosses the blackberry to her before she can say anything else and she has to scramble to catch it; in the meantime, he slaps his wet gloves down on the ground. "Just wash half of the dishes and then I'll come wash the other half," he says coldly. "There's no _island rule_ that we have to be in here together."

"Derek!" She sounds hurt. "Come on, can't we -"

"No," he says sharply.

"But we were just-"

"We were just nothing, Addison." He shakes his head. "I forgot who I was dealing with." He looks her up and down with disgust. "Have a nice conversation with your boyfriend _,_ " he says bitingly before he stalks away from her on the cement floor, some dignity lost to the squelching sound emanating from his wet shoes.

"Derek, wait …"

Her cry follows him, but he slams the door behind him, cutting off whatever else she was going to say.

 _Goddamn it._ He's starting to think this island isn't magic – more like poison.

* * *

 _To be continued, of course. Hopefully fast. Faster if you review. Yes, that's mean, I'm sorry. I'm sending all of you virtual hugs, virtual white lightning to make up for it. So ... review? **Pretty please and thank you so much!**_


	11. in the far off great forever

**A/N: Thank you** beautiful readers for all your feedback. You are as wonderful as a headache bowl served fresh at the hearth to treat a hangover! This chapter starts with another flashback - the second of three.

Now, back to the island...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _11\. in the far off great forever_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

" _Objection!" The grey-haired lawyer clears his throat, glaring over the top of his wire-framed glasses. "Savannah … are you really going to ask him to speculate on this?"_

" _Yes, Peter … I really am." Savvy meets his eyes across the table, one eyebrow just slightly lifted, what one of her partners calls tiger-before-the-pounce. "Are you really going to continue to make speaking objections, or should we conduct ourselves under the Rules?"_

 _He folds back into his chair. "Thank you," she says mildly, and turns her attention back to the witness. "Mr. Llewelyn, you can answer the question."_

 _A flash on the table next to her catches her eye – it's her blackberry, lighting up with an incoming call. She has the device out only for timekeeping purposes, and it normally wouldn't distract her, but it's Weiss. He almost never calls her during the day without checking in first; with both of them tied to their blackberries, they stick to email or messages left with each other's secretaries._

 _He would have called her office first and Bertie would have told him she's in a deposition. So if he's calling her cell phone now…_

 _Something could be wrong. Something must be wrong._

 _She forces herself to focus on the witness's answer to the question, jots down a followup, and then calls for a quick recess._

" _Off the record at 5:16," the court reporter announces, and Savvy picks up her blackberry and exits the conference room with a quick nod to her associate to stay behind with their materials._

 _She ducks into a breakout room and dials her husband back._

" _Weiss? I'm still in a depo, is everything all – wait, what?" She grasps at the blackberry as if it has answers. "No, I didn't get any messages."_

 _Her fingers are searching for something, anything, now to fiddle with as nervous energy starts to overtake her. There's a landline in the middle of the table; she settles for twining the coiled cord around her fingers, watching her skin redden and whiten in turn. It reminds her of the calls she and Weiss used to make to each other in college, flat on their beds in their separate dorms, pulling on the receiver to get comfortable,_

 _Their phone was pink. She brought it freshman year and Addie teased her about it but they still had it on graduation day and when they packed up and separated the phone left with Addison._

" _I didn't call the office for messages, no." Her mind is racing as she tries to make sense of what he's saying. "Bertie would have – but I don't understand, honey. Where is she now?"_

 _She twines the cord faster, watching her skin change color._

" _And you called Derek? I know, you said, but have you tried – oh, you did." Her heart is thumping. "Weiss, I don't know what I can do. We have an hour left on the record, and I really can't – right. You can?" She breathes a sigh of relief._

" _Thank you, honey – I know I don't have to, I want to." She tucks the blackberry between her neck and shoulder, twisting her rings around her left hand. "You're on the way? Let me know when you get there. I'll come as soon as we're finished and – okay, so just email and tell me where you are."_

" _And, Weiss?" She swallows hard. "Tell Addie I'm coming, okay? Tell her I'll be there as soon as I can."_

 _She composes herself quickly and returns to the conference room. Peter, his associates, and his client haven't returned._

" _Savvy, is everything okay?"_

 _She brought a mid-level with her today to second chair; she's bright and competent but as much as it's killing her not to be able to show up, Savvy needs to finish taking this deposition herself._

" _Everything's fine, Lauren." She nods briefly. "Make sure Exhibit 12 is prepared when we go back on the record."_

 _It's okay. It has to be. It's not the same as last time. It's been years …_

 _And anyway, she'll be there as soon as she can, she reminds herself. In the meantime, Weiss will show up. He always does._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

She's sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling, when Boswell and Derek approach her together, which is surprising enough to keep her from greeting them with anything more than a squeak.

Bos offers her a hand up and she takes it, not missing the flash of annoyance on Derek's face.

"Ready for your next assignment?" Bos grins at her.

"Definitely." She glances through the merciful shade of the sunglasses at Derek, who looks far less enthusiastic. And then he balks once Bos has provided instructions.

"Picking up trash on the beach? But there's no trash on the beach," Derek says with confusion. "No one in your family would do that."

"So he does learn sometimes. Even if he's slow." Bos actually looks impressed. "Addie, you'll explain it to him?"

"We pick up the seaweed to confirm it's _not_ trash," Addison recites dutifully.

"That makes no sense."

"Neither does drinking so much white lightning you almost miss breakfast," Bos points out mildly.

Once Bos has left, Derek grumbles most of the way to the beach.

"How many more jobs are we going to need to do to repent for our hangovers? Amy got less community service when she threw a brick through the window of a police station!"

Addison smiles at that, and Derek glares at her. She fiddles with the hem of her lightweight shirt, fighting conflicting feelings. They're stuck together on the beach now – there's no way to take turns here, not like with the dishes, and Derek's hostility toward her, however deserved, is making her feel like crawling out of her skin. That itchy feeling, that desperation, never leads to anything good.

At the same time, she's hating herself for wishing they could recapture their closeness in the warehouse before her phone call ruined everything.

Derek is studying her like he knows what she's thinking. "How was your conversation with Mark?"

"I didn't pick up the call, actually," she says in a small voice.

"Not on my account, I hope."

"Derek…"

"What?" His tone is cold now. He doesn't sound like he really wants the answer to that question.

"Derek, I'm _sorry._ I'm so sorry, and I've told you how sorry I am, and I'll keep telling you. It was a mistake."

"A mistake." He shakes his head. "Are you totally incapable of being honest?"

"That's not fair."

"Why is your _mistake_ calling you, then? Why are you living with your mistake?"

She wants to lower her eyes but he's pinning her with his gaze, his blue eyes so intense that she doesn't look away.

"I … can't sleep alone," she whispers, hating how pathetic it sounds, but Derek _knows_ , he knows even if he doesn't know why, not all of it, and –

"That's not enough," he says simply, and turns his back.

"Derek, wait." She chases him down the beach. "Just … listen to me for a second. Please," she says shakily. "Eleven years … you can give me five minutes."

"Fine." He turns around, his expression making perfectly clear he's not that interested in what she has to say.

She takes a deep breath before she starts talking, then leans down to pick up a long, thin stick. Rubbing her thumb over its uneven surface, she uses it to trace a line in the damp sand close to the water. She glances up at Derek. "You remember how we'd spend anniversaries at the Hamptons house and we'd always write our initials in a heart in the sand?" She smiles a little at the memory. "You'd always want to wait until the waves had smoothed it all out before we left the beach."

"Erased it, you mean?" He glances at her. "I guess that should have been a sign."

She takes a deep breath, lets the hurt wash over her and back again like the waves they're still watching.

"Derek … we had something good. You know we did. Don't try to poison it now just because you hate me."

"You poisoned it when you screwed my best friend in _my_ bed, Addison."

"So that's it? You'll never forgive me?"

He stares out at the ocean without responding.

"Derek … you never did it, though."

"Did what?" He bends to lift a shell, inspects it.

"Filed for divorce."

He winds up and throws the shell into the water, hard. They both watch it skitter and sink.

"So?"

"So was it because you were too busy with your girlfriend, or because you … or some part of you anyway, still wants to be married to me?"

"Do I seem like I want to be married to you?"

"No." She draws another line in the sand with the pointed stick. "But since you asked ... you didn't before I slept with Mark either."

"Ah, I was waiting for you to tell me this is all my fault, Addison. You've always been good at taking responsibility."

She swallows at his coolly sarcastic tone. "That's not what I – look, Derek, you know how I said Meredith is … the anti-Addison?" He doesn't respond, so she just barrels forward. "I get it, Derek, I get why you would want that but … that's not what I was doing with Mark, okay? I _missed_ you. Mark was just … there, and I missed you, and I wish I hadn't done it and yes, I … stayed with him after you left but he was all I had!"

She stops talking for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

" _You_ were the one I wanted. But you stopped seeing me. You stopped being there, you stopped … and I tried to fix it, Derek, I did…"

"Tried something other than sleeping with my best friend, you mean?"

"Yes." She presses her fingers underneath her eyes, trying to forestall tears. "I did, I … do you remember when I came to your office, and I … "

"Addison."

" _Derek._ " She takes a step closer to him. "I swear I wasn't trying to destroy our marriage, when I did what I did, I wasn't even thinking. I was lonely and I was – I needed … someone, and he was there. But _you_ were always the one I wanted. I regret what I did, but I tried to hold our marriage together before Mark, by myself, and it was hard, Derek, it was freaking _hard_. I needed you, and you weren't there."

"Needed me for what?"

"How can you ask that? You're my husband."

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, seemingly thinking better of saying something. When he does speak, his question surprises her.

"Why do Savvy's brother and cousin keep talking about you and the island like there's some big secret?"

"I don't know what you mean," she says uneasily.

"Okay, fine. Forget I asked. Keep secrets, don't be honest with me. And then complain that I'm not _there_ for you, whatever that means."

"It means something." Her voice shakes a little. "Look at Savvy and Weiss-"

"We're not Savvy and Weiss."

"No, we're Addison and Derek." And when he doesn't correct her and say _Derek and Addison,_ she has to swallow hard. Somehow, it hurts more than any of his cutting words. "Let's look for more trash," she chokes out, and moves past him to scoop up a handful of dried seaweed.

.-.-.

They don't speak any more than they have to while they comb the strip of beach closest to Reeds; Addison sees Savvy in the distance by the dock when they're finished and uses it as an excuse to leave Derek in the sand.

"Sav!"

"Finished serving your sentence?" Savvy smiles at her and they walk together onto the dock, sitting together much the way Addison sat alone before their beach service.

"We did. We're officially not shameful anymore," Addison says. "Well … by island rules, anyway."

Savvy nudges her gently with one shoulder. "Bos said the two of you looked pretty cozy in the warehouse."

Addison looks down at her hands in her lap. "Yeah, that was … temporary. Now he hates me again."

Savvy doesn't say anything; she's patiently waiting for an answer. Addison knows it's a technique – she's even heard Savvy tell her why it works – but she's too tired to avoid being lawyered right now. "Mark called," she admits. "Derek saw his name and took off."

"Oh, Addie." Savvy shakes her head.

"It was the worst possible timing. Before Mark called, for just a minute it actually felt like Derek…" her voice trails off. "I guess it doesn't matter. Sav, forget about us, how are _you_ doing with-"

"No, we can talk about me afterwards," Savvy says firmly. "We're talking about you now. Addie … how did you leave things with Mark? Before you came out here, I mean."

"I don't know how to explain it."

"Try," Savvy suggests.

"I was staying with him," she says slowly. "Not _living_ with him, not really. Mark's not – I mean, you know how he is," she adds.

Savvy nods.

"Derek left," Addison says softly. "He left me and didn't tell me where he went. I didn't know what else to do. Derek didn't want me. And Mark did. Or he said he did, anyway."

Savvy doesn't say anything; Addison stirs the cool water with one bare foot, guilt churning within her.

"Addie … what do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're telling me what Derek wanted and what Mark wanted. What does _Addison_ want in all this?"

She blinks. "I guess I don't know."

"Then I guess you should figure it out," Savvy says gently. "Because even though Mark may be a player, he's still a person, and so is Derek, and so are you, and all three of you deserve to figure out what's going on here so you can stop hurting each other and move on."

"I screwed everything up." She rests her head in her hands, suddenly unable to bear the glare of the sun on the water. She feels Savvy's hand on her back, rubbing gently. She gives her some time before she asks her next question.

"Do you still love Derek?"

"Yes, of course. I think ... I don't know."

"Do you want to be with him?"

"I don't _know_ , Sav, I don't know which Derek it would be. The last year when it was just me in the marriage? Or the Derek before then?"

"He's just one Derek, honey."

"Maybe … but it wasn't just one marriage."

"Marriage changes, Ad. It evolves. For us too."

"Weiss is different. Weiss shows up. He always shows up."

"Derek was like that, Addie. You know he was, before, just not when– "

Addison lifts a hand but Savvy shakes her head, an assurance she's not about to bring up painful memories.

"Do you think you gave him a real chance?"

"What do you mean?"

"Honey, he can't show up when he doesn't know-"

"He knew! He _knew_. How many times did Weiss call him?"

Savvy looks guilty. "We told you he …"

"…was in surgery and couldn't be interrupted? It wasn't believable, Sav, you and Weiss might be brilliant lawyers but I know how hospitals work better than you do. Plus … I heard you and Weiss talking about it."

"Oh, Addie, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry if we made things worse."

"Worse? You wouldn't know how to make things worse, Sav. All you've ever done is make things better."

Savvy's blue eyes fill with tears. "You're not supposed to be making me cry, Ad, remember? You're supposed to be cheering me up."

They turn on the wooden dock and embrace, resting their heads on each other's shoulders and quietly sharing strength.

"Good choice of me as your friend, then … I'm always so cheerful." Addison pulls back and tucks a lock of Savvy's hair behind her ear, softening her sarcasm.

"You were a good choice, Addie, every time."

Now it's Addison's turn to get teary-eyed. "I don't think Derek would agree with you there."

"You hurt him," Savvy says simply. "Look, Addie, I'm on your side for life. I would drive your getaway car-"

Both of them stop talking for a moment as the conditional mood of the sentence turns over in their minds.

"The point is," Savvy continues, "I am here for _you,_ Addie, and I always will be, but my god, what it must have done to him to walk in on you and Mark."

"I know." She covers her face with her hands. "Savvy, I know, it was so horrible. _I'm_ horrible."

"Can you imagine if you'd had walked in on him with – well, with your best friend?"

"Do you mean you, or Naomi from med school? Both are horrifying in slightly different ways."

"You're deflecting." Savvy nudges her gently again. "You're not the only one who's hurting, Addie."

"He says he's not hurt, he's angry."

"Just because he says something doesn't mean it's true." Savvy pauses. "Have you thought about being honest with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"All he knows is that you slept with Mark. Does he know why? Does he understand what the last couple years were like for –"

"He was there."

"Was he?" Savvy sighs. "Maybe just be honest with him, Addison. Maybe just consider it. Give him one more chance."

"It's him who won't give _me_ another chance."

"Maybe. Maybe it's both of you."

"And you, Sav? How do you feel?"

"Well, I need to go out on a boat and scatter my mother's ashes tomorrow – so I've been better. And Augie … " Her eyes fill with tears. "She gets mad if I try to talk about It."

Addison shakes her head. "I can't imagine what she's going through."

"She's so young. Even Aunt Cee was forty-eight. And it was so hard for Augie, losing her mama like that and she was already a teenager. Minna's so little, still a baby, really."

"Savvy, it's not over. Augie's fighting."

"I know. I'm just … scared. And with my test results-"

"A positive result doesn't mean cancer, Sav."

"I know what it means, Addie. And I know what I want to do about it. And I also know my husband doesn't want me to have the surgery."

"It's just a shock for him. It's hard to think about. Weiss loves you."

"I hope so."

"Savvy, you know he loves you."

"I know he loves me, I just hope he loves … _me_ and not just – well, me." Savvy gestures ruefully down at her body; she's wearing a long loose sundress with gathered legs, so that it's something of a jumpsuit but much prettier and filmier than that; Savvy always looks beautiful and now is no exception, her long blond hair is loose and soft around her face, her tired eyes shining crystal blue in the sun. She skims her hands over the curves of her body with a sigh.

"You and Weiss were nineteen when you met," Addison reminds her gently. "Neither of you looks like that anymore. We all change and we'll keep changing. Actually, I think you both look better. Weiss discovered hair products –"

"You'd know about that," Savvy teased, "being married to Derek."

"And _you_ stopped teasing up your bangs."

"Hey, teasing up my bangs was very fashionable at the time."

"Oh, you pulled it off, Sav. You could pull off worse – and you have – but I'm just saying."

"If I had the surgery, I'd go through menopause."

Addison nods.

"I know you know, you've done it with … patients, I'm sure a hundred times but for me – I just don't know, I think maybe that's what scares him most of all. That we wouldn't grow old together – that I'd grow old without him, while he's still … young."

"Or what scares him is that he doesn't want to lose you."

"Maybe we have different definitions of what _losing_ me would be."

"Maybe," Addison says, "but I'm not sure you're giving Weiss enough credit."

Savvy smiles softly, brushing at her eyes before a tear can fall. Addison squeezes her shoulder. They were seventeen when they met, teenagers, and Savvy has always had the exact same expression when she wants to change the subject.

"By the way … " Addison nudges her and smiles. "Derek says he wants to meet Bos's wife." She lifts an eyebrow.

"What?" Savvy laughs. "Okay … you made me feel better."

Addison sees tears come to her friend's eyes. "You know, Addie, I love this place, I really do, but I don't want to be back here for Augie. I don't want Weiss back here for me, sitting on the hat and telling stories about me. I'm sorry if it's disrespectful to Mama or Aunt Cece or even Augie, but I want to live.

Her voice is louder now, it echoes across the water, so powerfully that Addison shivers.

"I want you to live, Savvy. You _will_ live. You're the most alive person I know. I've thought that from the moment I met you. You have every reason to fight, however you choose to fight. Don't give up."

"Yeah." Savvy shakes her head. "And take your own advice too, Addie. Don't you give up either."

"Sav."

"You and Derek … you were meant to be."

"Savvy, don't-"

"The island doesn't lie, Addie, and the island isn't wrong. I may not know much but I know that."

Savvy wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her words churn in Addison's mind as they sit together, feet in the water, watching the far off fishing boat that's seeking their dinner.

They stay like that until Weiss arrives to tell Savvy her cousins are looking for her. Alone again, Addison walks along the beach she and Derek were responsible for cleaning. She's surprised to see him fifty feet or so away; he turns and sees her too.

 _Have you thought about being honest with him? Give him one more chance._

The breeze off the water lifts his dark curls and their messiness sends a tender rush through her. Unable to keep herself from smiling, she raises her hand in a wave.

He looks right at her. And then turns and walks the other way.

.-.-.

Waving reeds tickle her ankles, and she welcomes the distraction from the tightness in her chest. She had to get away from the beach, from Derek, but the reminder of how badly she screwed everything up. Now she needs something, _anything,_ to make her stop feeling. White lightning is out, and there's only one other thing can she can think of to numb the pain.

"Addison! You finally got phone service out there on Gilligan's Island?"

"Sorry I didn't get back to you before," she says, phone tucked against her ear, twisting the rings on her left finger with her other hand.

"No sweat. You holding up okay?"

There's a woman's voice in the background, a giggly one, and she hears muffled speaking as Mark presumably moves the phone away from his mouth.

"Who's that?"

"No one," he says easily.

"Well I hope _no one_ remembers to take her cheap lingerie with her this time so the colors don't run on my laundry again."

"You're _such_ a snob," Mark laughs. "Tell you what, I'll pass on the message if you'll actually do your own laundry."

"I do my own laundry," she scowls. "…sometimes."

"And yet you never do mine," he deadpans, "even though I bought that French maid outfit for you and everything."

She can't help smiling. This is Mark's gift, and it's worth finding stupid red lace panties in the bed they share, it's worth walking in on him at the hospital, because when he's teasing her in that low, rumbling voice that promises so much more, she actually doesn't feel sad. She doesn't feel anything.

She needs the rest of it too – the _rest_ is what numbs the pain, and he can't give that to her long distance – but this is definitely helping.

"I know you've had some disturbing sexual fantasies, Mark, but that's one I'm never going to fulfill. No matter how many foot massages you give me."

"Oh yeah? How about if I massage something else?"

"You can massage whatever you want," she says coyly, "especially if you do that thing with your –" and then she stops talking abruptly.

Derek is standing feet away in the reeds with a murderous expression, looking like he wouldn't mind drowning her.

"I have to go, sorry," she mutters, clicking the phone shut.

"Derek," she says quickly, words tumbling over each other. "Listen, I know what it … but it's not … I mean, I was just…"

"I know what you were _just_ doing." His lip curls. "You're unbelievable."

She searches his face for any memory of the man who used to love her.

"You hate me, Derek, you don't want me around, excuse me for wanting to talk to someone who actually likes me."

"Liking to screw you isn't the same thing as liking you," he says coldly.

"Well, you didn't like either one by the time you left me, so I don't see why you care." Her voice shakes.

"I don't," he says simply.

"Then why-"

"The weather's changing. That's what Savvy said anyway, she sent me to come tell you dinner's in the shelter instead of the hearth."

"Oh." She glances up at the greying sky.

"Phone sex while your best friend is getting ready to bury her mother." He shakes his head. "After everything you said about how we're supposed to behave _on the island._ I guess presenting a united front isn't as important as whoring around?"

Her free hand flies up to slap his face almost of its own accord, but he catches her wrist with lightning-quick reflexes before she can make contact.

When she tries to pull free, he tightens his grip, holding her hard and glaring at her.

"Don't tempt me," he says grimly.

She quails a little under his cold gaze. This is nothing like their play fighting in the warehouse, splashing each other with bubbles, the teasing way they'd wrestled for control of the faucet. But he's still Derek. He wouldn't … she knows he wouldn't, but…

"Derek," she says weakly. She won't say _please,_ but…

He just shakes her free with a look of disgust and stalks off toward the path.

She sinks into the reeds, holding her knees close to her chest. The sharp little tips of the plants are biting into her bare legs and she welcomes the physical discomfort. A fat drop splashes on her hand as she holds the phone. She looks up to see gathering clouds, a darkened sky.

As soon as her hands stop shaking enough to press the numbers, she calls Mark again, but he doesn't pick up this time.

* * *

 _To be continued. I know this isn't the progress we'd want, but they wouldn't be Addek if they didn't make things difficult for themselves and each other. This was a talk heavy chapter, I know - lots of action coming up in the next one. Want to read Chapter 12 soon? You know how to feed the machine - review! Pretty please with some white lightning on top?_

Chapter title from _When They Ring Those Golden Bells._


	12. keep me safe 'til the storm passes by

**A/N: Thank you** for the fantastic response to the next chapter. You beautiful readers deserve another chapter today. I know there's still a lot for Addison and Derek to work out and their fighting is frustrating and Addison's calling Mark was a lousy move, but ... have faith and I'll get you there, I promise! We're starting with the third of the three flashbacks. This chapter is the longest one yet. Brace yourselves and head back to the island...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 ** _Some Bright Morning_** _  
_ _10\. keep me safe 'til the storm passes by_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _"Bos," Savvy says frantically, turning over his hands to see the damage to his knuckles, "what happened to your hands? What happened to your hands, Bos?"_

 _"I took care of it," he shrugs, and if he's in pain there's no indication._

 _"And this?" She reaches up to touch his temple, where a bruise is starting to darken his tanned skin. He gives her a rueful grin, typically rakish Bos but his eyes look dark._

 _"Don't worry, sis, you should…"_

 _"Don't say you should see the other guy!"_

 _"Savvy, it's okay."_

 _"No, it's not, Bos! Not if you really … oh, god." Savvy takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, we can do this. We just need … hang on."_

 _She reaches for the pink telephone on the desk between her bed and Addie's and dials a familiar number, praying he'll pick up. "Beau, it's Sav. We have a problem. Yeah, the kind where … okay."_

 _She sits down on the edge of the desk, winding the telephone cord around her hand, watching the skin turn white and then red again._

 _"You already know about … yeah, she'll be okay, but now Bos … right. We will. And, Beau – you get Poppa's friend, the lawyer, to find us someone in Connecticut. … Yes, I know we need it, just listen to me!"_

 _Her cousin's conciliatory tone rumbles down the line._

 _"Okay. So we'll meet you and you'll arrange – thank you," she says gratefully, setting the pink phone in its cradle and turning back to Bos._

 _There's a knock on the door then and she jumps, exchanging an anxious look with her brother._

 _"Sav? You in there?"_

 _She breathes a sigh of relief at the familiar voice; sliding back the bolt, she pulls open the door, then reaches for her boyfriend's arm, yanks him inside, and closes and locks the door again behind him._

 _Weiss looks from Savvy to Bos. "What's going on … did something else …"_

 _"Weiss." Savvy cuts him off, and then reaches up to put her hands on his shoulders. "Weiss, I need you to do something for me."_

 _"Sure," he says immediately._

 _"I need you to spring Addie from Health Services."_

 _"What?" He looks confused. "But Sav, she's there for a reason. She needs-"_

 _"No, she needs us. She needs something they don't have at Health Services, Weiss. And, uh … also my brother might have committed a felony or … a few."_

 _Weiss's eyes widen. "Um … okay. Spring Addie. I can – oh, wait." He pauses, looking concerned._

 _"What is it?"_

 _"I have to hand in my econ paper. It's due by 5 today."_

 _"Weiss!"_

 _"Sav, you know Kopfelman doesn't mess around."_

 _"Okay. Okay, let me think. You have to go to his office?"_

 _"Of course. Believe me, Savvy, I wish there were some magical way to hand in a paper without leaving my dorm with, like, a robot or something, but this isn't science fiction, so yeah, the only way to get a professor a paper is to take it to his office and I don't even have the paper with me. I left it on my desk."_

 _Weiss rambles when he's nervous. It's cute. But she hopes he can keep it in check long enough to be convincing at Health Services._

 _"Weiss." She cuts him off. "Where's Kopfelman's office?"_

 _"Fourth floor of Witt."_

 _Witterson Hall. "That's actually on the way to – okay, we'll pick up the paper and hand it in for you. Give Bos your keys."_

 _Weiss gives Bos an uncertain look, which Savvy assumes is related to the misadventure in his truck over Christmas break._

 _"He's a great driver," Savvy says hastily. "And we need him to get into your entryway. You're still parked up on State, right?"_

 _Weiss nods._

 _"Okay. We'll pick up the paper, hand it in, and meet you at Health Services. Back entryway." She's throwing clothes into a purple canvas duffel bag as she talks, taking turns: handful from her drawer, handful from Addie's. Underwear, bras, socks. Loose and comfy clothes for Addie. Something warm for nighttime when the winds roll in. She'll grab some more of Weiss's sweatpants when she's in his room; those will come in handy._

 _"What about my-"_

 _"We'll pack for you," Savvy assures him._

 _Weiss looks uncertain._

 _"Weiss. Don't you want to help her?"_

 _"Of course I want to help her, Sav, I've been-"_

 _"You've been great, you really have. You showed up for me and for and you showed up for us but now I need you to do it again. I need you to show up one more time."_

 _She sees Weiss's gaze fall onto Bos's swollen hand, the split in his knuckles. Slowly, he nods._

 _"Sav … where are we going?"_

 _"Somewhere Addie can get what she needs."_

 _"And I need to sneak Addie out of Health Services to do that..."_

 _He glances between Savvy and her brother._

 _"Okay, city boy." Bos stands in front of Weiss. "Now's the time to find out if you have the right kind of balls."_

 _"What kind of balls are those?" Weiss looks nervously at Savvy._

 _"Weiss." Savvy takes his face between her palms and stares at him, willing him to hear how important this is. "Listen to me. You're great and I love you and I know it hasn't been that long with us but I swear I think it could be. I think you could be it for me but this is just one of those things we have to do. You were so great when it happened, you really were, but it's not over and I need you now, too."_

 _He meets her gaze and nods, very slightly. "I'm here."_

 _"And you're coming with us?"_

 _"I'm coming with you." He pauses._

 _"Okay. Good. I'll meet you behind Health Services," she says quickly, leaning on her windowsill to scan the quad below. They won't catch attention; it's spring break, students are moving in and out of the dorms all the time. "We'll pull over on Maple. Wait for us next to the overhang, not under it."_

 _"Sav … where did you say we're going, exactly?"_

 _"I didn't." She grabs her lightweight barn jacket and slings the purple duffel back over her shoulder. "Come on, boys – let's get the hell out of here."_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

Everyone's gathering in the shelter for dinner now that the weather has changed, but Addison takes a few moments to gather herself before she joins them. If there's one thing she knows how to do, it's pull it together when she feels like her world is falling apart, so that's what she does.

As soon as she arrives at the three-walled structure behind Reeds, protected from the high winds, she scans the crowd for Derek.

It's automatic.

This is what will be hardest, she supposes – breaking that habit. Not finding him first in any room, not gravitating to his side, not glancing over at him to see his reactions to things. For more than a third of her life – for more than half of the life she can remember – he's been her automatic other half. She receives news with him in mind, makes plans with him in mind, holds his words in her head and his thoughts on her tongue. If _you_ meant _AddisonAndDerek_ all those years, then _we_ will be even harder to shake.

She's still mulling over this as she drifts across the room toward the man who is still her husband.

He turns before she's halfway there and he's looking at her by the time she reaches his side. He doesn't say anything, just picks up her wrist in his hand; she gasps a little without meaning to at the contact. His thumb rubs over her skin and she doesn't move even though she can feel the fine hairs on her arm standing up under his touch. It's a clinician's touch, she reminds herself, even if it's gentle … not a lover's.

It's just her body apparently didn't get the message. Heat swirls through her stomach and her knees feel a little soft. He looks up at her, still holding her wrist, and she looks back.

Neither of them says anything.

He doesn't apologize for grabbing her and she doesn't apologize for trying to slap him and neither of them mentions what Derek overheard in the reeds.

There must still be something of _AddisonAndDerek_ in them after all, because when he lets her go her they join the group to throw back heavily diluted white lightning, munch on tin bowls of island stew, and listen to stories about Catherine running along these beaches with her sister Cecilia as a young girl.

.-.-.

There's a light rain falling outside the shelter, but under the three-walled structure it's mercifully warm and dry with a crackling fire and pewter pots holding fragrant food. The air is filled with the rise and fall of chattering voices, the sounds of children playing in the protected area, and the clatter of slowly emptying dishes.

On his way to refill his drink, Derek catches a glimpse of Boswell standing to one side of the hearth, holding a little girl on his shoulders. He supposes this must be one of his children. He's deep in conversation with a man whose name Derek hasn't caught, presumably another cousin, who has a little boy sitting on his own shoulders. The two children are also talking to each other from their perches high above the ground, and it's the kind of thing that might have been adorable if seeing Savvy's brother didn't leave a bad taste in Derek's mouth.

He walks a few steps away but then he just runs into Beau, who as usual is surrounded by small children.

"No fireworks, Daddy? Not even if it stops raining?"

"It's not going to stop raining, bud." Beau ruffles the blond hair of one of his sons. "Not until the morning." Beau glances over at Derek. "Hey. We're probably calling curfew after this."

"Curfew?"

"Storm protocol," Beau says. "Stay inside, stay away from the water, until the morning."

"Did you see a weather report, or …" Derek's voice trails off. Beau is looking at him like he's crazy. Apparently weather is something else that the Beauforts can just divine without having access to the outside world.

"Y'all have everything you need down at Reeds?" It's Lily asking this question, Beau's wife; she's holding their little girl by the hand and looking at him with what seems like genuine concern.

 _What we need is two separate rooms._

"We do. Thank you so much," he adds, conscious that Beau is watching him closely.

Addison keeps shooting him nervous glances that are irritating for a number of reasons; after spending most of his adult life with her he's having to consciously turn off the urge to stand by her side. Maybe it's the rain, the impending storm or the emotion of saying goodbye to Catherine, but the group under the shelter is, for the most part, coupled off.

There's the pig farmer-underwear model, sitting on a wrought-iron bench with a toddler on her lap, apparently trying to convince him to eat, while the tall blond he recognizes as her husband wrangles two other children; occasionally, their heads join together to murmur something he can't hear.

The young couple he saw outside Reeds talking to Addison late at night – the newlyweds – are standing together, arms around each other's waists, peering out into the storm. And on the stone wall running the perimeter, Savvy and her cousin Augie are sitting side by side, each woman flanked by her husband, four mason jars of white lightning among them.

Derek notes that of everyone he can see under the shelter, only Boswell seems to be avoiding his wife. Ruefully he wonders if he and Bos have something in common after all.

Addison is standing with two blonde women whose names he can't remember, presumably cousins, though they could be spouses of cousins. He wonders briefly if one of them is Casey, but then he's distracted watching Addison's gestures as she listens to something one of the other women is saying, rubbing absently at the flesh of her wrist.

He flushes with guilt. In the reeds, before dinner, he blocked her slap on instinct – she's never raised a hand to him before and he stopped her before he could even think about it. It wasn't a choice.

Holding onto her was, though, and his stomach clenches now remembering it. Remembering that there was a flicker of something in her eyes that disturbed him and he walked away before he'd feel compelled to ask.

"Derek?"

She's interrupted his thoughts; he nods reluctantly in greeting.

"Storm's coming in," she says tentatively.

"Yeah." He glances away from her, taking another sip of the very watered-down white lightning.

"Derek, can I just talk to you for a –"

"Not now," he cuts her off.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath. "I just wanted you to understand something, because-"

"I understand," he says abruptly. "I don't need any more explanation."

.-.-.

He leaves her standing alone in the shelter and once she's bussed her dishes she pulls up the hood of her windbreaker – it's one of those outdoorsy, trail type of brands, Derek bought it for her years ago – and follows him down to the beach.

"I don't want to talk," he says without turning around when she's reached him. The rain falling is light but persistent, and his hair looks damp and wild.

She doesn't say anything; finally, he turns around. "Can't you leave me alone?"

"I guess not," she admits.

"Addison."

"Derek, I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't mean for you to hear – and I just needed –"

"You just needed what?"

"I just needed to talk to someone." She pushes at the damp sand with one foot, embarrassed.

He studies her for a moment. "You asked me if I still felt nauseous when I looked at you. You want to know what I see when I look at you?"

"Okay," she says hesitantly.

"I see Mark's hands," he says, facing the ocean, his tone fierce. "I see Mark's hands all over you and I see what you were doing when I walked in on you. And I hear you … saying his name."

Her stomach twists. "Derek, I'm so sorry, you have no idea how-"

"Save it." He makes a dismissive gesture.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," she whispers. "I know it must seem that way, I know it, but Derek, I swear…"

"I thought you were the love of my life," he says simply, "and you threw our marriage away for _Mark_."

"You threw our marriage away first!" The words come out fiercely.

"Oh, I forgot it's all my fault."

"You weren't there, Derek. You weren't-"

"Oh, god." He rolls his eyes. "We're back to how I didn't pay enough attention to you, so you had no choice but to fuck my best friend in _my_ bed on a night when you knew I'd be coming home."

"I didn't know you'd be coming home!" She's yelling now. "Damn it, Derek I _never_ knew if you were coming home! I couldn't count on you at all by that point."

"Well, I hope your marriage to Mark is better, then. Good luck. You should probably put a jumbo box of STD tests on your wedding registry."

It's mean, but it's close to home.

"I'm not marrying him," she says quietly. "I'm married to _you_ , Derek."

He looks disgusted.

"Derek, just … just do me this favor. Just think about how many cancelled plans, the last two years, before– before you left. How many times _didn't_ you come home? How long before you stopped even telling me you weren't coming home?"

"I was busy," he says stiffly. "And so were you, as I recall."

"I was busy too. But I tried to make you a priority, I did."

"Right. You were perfect and I'm the bad guy."

"Stop being so damned black and white Derek, it's not like that! Marriage isn't like that!"

"Don't lecture me on marriage when you couldn't keep your legs closed," he says bitterly.

She winces at his language, to hear someone who once made her feel so safe, so loved, talking about her in that careless way.

"Mark … made me feel wanted," she says in a small voice.

"Spare me, Addison. I've spent plenty of time watching Mark work. He makes all the girls feel wanted, if he wants to get them into bed, and then he screws them a few times and moves on to the next one. You're not special."

"I'm your wife," she whispers. "How could you…"

"How could I? How could _you_ , Addison. How could you throw away everything we-"

"I didn't mean to! I didn't want to, Derek, if you could just-" she stops talking, pressing a hand to her abdomen.

He frowns. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." The pain was brief; it's passed. "Too much island stew, probably."

"You hardly ate anything," he points out.

"It's heavy, Derek. There are like three prize pigs in each batch."

He seems to be fighting a smile now, some of the tension broken.

"Also I think I slept half-hanging off the bed last night," she says, "and I can feel it." She rubs at the ache in her lower back.

"Good thing the white lightning was diluted tonight, then."

"Yeah."

Tentatively, she reaches out to rest a hand on her arm. She's not sure why, maybe just that every moment with him on the island feels like it could be their last, and she's compelled to memorize the feel of him. He lets her for a moment before he sidesteps and her arm drops back to her side.

.-.-.

"Addie? Derek? Are you all right out there?"

She turns to see Savvy approaching in high wellies with her long, blonde hair waving in the wind. She's damp with rain and rosy-cheeked from the breeze. _It's beautiful on the island,_ that's what Savvy told her in college, before she saw it for herself. _And it makes you beautiful, too._ Addison had only had her braces off for two months at the time. _I'd like to see an island that can make me beautiful,_ she snorted sarcastically.

"Didn't you hear the bell? They called curfew. Storm's coming in," she comments when she reaches their side. Addison sees now that there are tears in her blue eyes. Savvy puts an apologetic hand up to her face; Derek wraps an arm around Savvy's shoulder and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

Addison watches with something like envy, embarrassed about it. She'd like some of that comfort herself. But if she asks for it, she might cry. And if she asks for it, and he won't give it to her …

She doesn't really want to think about that.

"I'm sorry. It's okay, really." Savvy pulls back and Derek gives her arm a gentle squeeze. "I just … I can't help thinking about her here. Everywhere, you know? She's everywhere on the island. And that's _good_ because she's still here, but it's also … it's also hard because she's not here."

Her voice breaks and Addison steps forward to wrap her in her arms.

"May I cut in?"

Addison looks up from Savvy's shoulder to see Weiss, who's smiling sadly at her.

She releases Savvy, and Weiss pulls her into his arms. "Sav … I was looking for you. They called curfew," he says, giving Addison and Derek an apologetic look over the top of her head while he murmurs comforting syllables into Savvy's hair.

Addison and Derek exchange a glance.

"We should be …" she starts.

"…should go…" he adds.

"…yeah," she finishes awkwardly.

When they take their leave, she stumbles a little on a dip in the damp sand and Derek catches her elbow to steady her, his grip surprisingly warm and strong.

They both look back as they reach the narrow wooden walkway. Savvy and Weiss are still embracing on the beach as frothy waves curl around their bare feet, rocking gently from side to side like a dance to music only they can hear. There may be a storm coming, but somehow they look strong enough to withstand it.

God, she misses that feeling.

.-.-.

They walk back to Reeds in silence. They push the door closed with some effort; the wind is picking up. There's a whistling sound from under the rough-hewn wood.

She sheds her damp windbreaker and leans back against the closed door, watching Derek. "I guess we have to stay inside now."

"I'm sure that's hard for you without your crew of admirers," he says drily.

She narrows her eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're right. Who knows what else you haven't told me?"

"Is this about Bos? Derek, come _on,_ why do you even care? It was twenty years ago!"

"It seems pretty fresh in his mind, though. Maybe that's what you were dong on the island on this secret visit – another rendezvous with him?"

Her heart thumps. "What? Of course not, Derek! Other than Mark I've never – I would never-"

"Of course not." Derek's voice is cold when he mimics her words. "Boswell's wife isn't around much on the island, is she? I still haven't seen her. Maybe you've been screwing him here, too."

She takes a step back. "That's not fair. Why are you even jealous if you hate me so-"

"I'm not _jealous_ ," he says scathingly. "I'm disgusted."

"Oh, stop being petty."

"Stop being an adulterous bitch!"

For a moment they just breathe heavily, looking at each other.

Then she stumbles back outside, pulling the door open against the wind with some effort. She has to get away from him, from his cold gaze. It's too confusing, it's hurts too much, thinking about the way he touched her in the warehouse – so briefly but she felt it everywhere, the way his thumb traced the seam of her pocket, his hand curving around her hip. The simple but powerful way he tugged her closer. His body pressed up against hers at the sink. For a moment, for a few moments, she had felt like herself. Like he was himself.

Maybe it's harder this way, this moments of hope. Maybe she's being unfair because she has no idea how to articulate what she wants, anyway. How can she put into words that what she wants is the Derek who disappeared two years ago? The Derek who waited for her, watched her, wanted her?

Savvy and Weiss are gone, presumably snuggled up somewhere for warmth, comforting each other. Like they used to.

She walks along the sand for a while, alone, thinking.

The rain is kicking up now, the swirling wind giving the foliage life, casting eerie shadows on the sand. The water looks black and forbidding, little white peaks giving testimony to the building storm.

"Addison!"

She turns around to see Derek making his way toward her down the sand. He's holding her windbreaker and she looks down at the gooseflesh rising on her wrists. She hadn't realized she left without it. He offers her the jacket as he gets to her side.

When she doesn't make any effort to take it, he drapes it around her shoulders. "It's raining. Come back inside."

She doesn't answer.

"We're supposed to stay inside," he reminds her.

"Island rules?" She glances at him, shaking her head. "You don't care about the island. You don't care about anything."

"Addison, don't do this here. There's a storm. You can tell me how much you hate me when we're back in the room."

She doesn't respond. He fiddles with the blackberry in his hand, and then pushes a few buttons. "No signal," he observes.

"High winds," Addison says quietly, looking out at the water as the light rain starts to feel more bracing.

"Come inside," he says again. "You're going to get soaked."

"I don't care."

"Addie. Come on."

"I'm sad," she says simply. "I'm angry too and yes at myself and not just you, and I'm confused and I'm … devastated, Derek, and I feel so guilty for what I did to you that I don't think I've gone day without feeling like someone's gnawing at my stomach, but …

"But what?"

"But I still love you," she says softly.

"Addison … don't."

"I still love you," she repeats. "I'm sorry, but I do, and I just … I don't mind picking up trash or washing dishes if I can do it with you."

He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. She sees his mouth open, then close again. He closes his hand around her upper arm and leads them back toward the path. "Come on," he says, his tone surprisingly gentle, "they called curfew."

She must have given him a look of surprise because he shrugs as they walk back toward Reeds. "Island rules, not mine."

.-.-.

They don't speak on their way back to Reeds, but his hand on her back is mildly comforting, even if she's pretty certain he doesn't mean it that way. She feels its absence when they're back in the room, and feels a sudden desperation to make him understand, to make him listen.

"Derek … please, let me just –"

"How could you?"

His voice is quiet when he interrupts her, but it's laced with betrayal and it pierces her chest. He doesn't have to finish the sentence. _How could you sleep with Mark?_

"I'm sorry," she breathes, even though it's not enough. "I … he was just there…"

"Damn it, Addison, he's not Everest!"

"I know that. I know." She swallows the tears. "Derek, I just … I mean, you _are_ going to forgive me at some point, right?"

"You want to know if I can forgive you … why, so you can hedge your bets? The last girl who tried to play Mark off me and me off Mark was in seventh grade and it didn't turn out well for her either."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"You're just afraid to be alone, then." He doesn't say it with any particular malice, but it stings nonetheless.

"What about you, Derek? You found a girlfriend the minute you got to Seattle, and-"

"Don't do that." He shakes his head. "Don't do the thing where you turn everything around. Take some responsibility for what you've done."

"I _do._ I do take responsibility, Derek. What about your responsibilities?"

"I'm responsible for throwing you into bed with Mark?" He shakes his head.

"No, of course not, but our marriage didn't just blow up that night, Derek, it was simmering for a hell of a lot longer and I wasn't the only one responsible for that!"

He takes a deep breath, looking like he'd like to lash back at her but he's not sure what to say.

"You were never there," she reminds him. "You left me alone, after you said – you left me alone, Derek."

"Because I was busy? Because I worked? Is that how you're spinning this now, Addison, you were Donna Reed waiting at home for me with a … roast, and I was working late just to spite you?" He shakes his head. "You were pretty ambitious yourself. We were both building practices. We were both moving forward with our careers."

"It's not because you were busy, or because you worked! It's not just about how often you were physically there. You weren't … _there_ , there, Derek. I needed you," she says quietly, "and you weren't there."

"What are you talking about? When?"

She shakes her head. "Forget it."

"Addison. You just said it's my fault you cheated because I wasn't there. Now you don't want to talk about it anymore?"

Truthfully, she's afraid to keep talking about it, because there's a stinging sensation behind her eyes that doesn't promise anything good.

He's studying her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I know I hurt you, Derek, I know that, and I am more sorry than you can possibly know."

"It doesn't matter," he says quietly.

His voice isn't angry now, it's – defeated, resigned, and that scares her more than yelling ever could.

"Derek." She steps forward to grasp his face in her hands, stubble scratching her palms, filling her with sense memory of the night he left her.

 _I'm sorry … I'm sorry … you have to give me a chance, you have to give me a chance to show you how sorry I am…_

He doesn't pull away now, but his jaw feels tight under her hands.

"Don't give up on me. Please." She searches his eyes; they're dark with pain but they're focused on her, he's looking at her, and she dares to hope for just a moment. "Derek, please, in the warehouse you were – I mean – it's not just muscle memory, it can't be."

His head moves between her hands like he's saying _no_ but she holds on tightly.

"Please," she whispers. "Derek, please."

His hands rise and circle her wrists, not hard, but when they slide back down the warmth of his skin is missing. Her chest feels tight when she looks at him.

"You're shivering," Derek says quietly, releasing her hands. "Your clothes are wet. You should go take a shower."

Slowly, she nods. There's a dull ache in her stomach now – probably the combination of fresh fish, whatever was in tonight's island stew, and white lightning. She drank moderately, nothing like the night before, but now she's kicking herself for not remembering how raw she'd feel.

She takes a step toward the bathroom, then turns back. "Does Meredith even know you're married, Derek? Does she know you at all?"

"Drop it," he says, his tone a warning that she ignores; like so many times before, she hurtles forward without worrying she might regret it later.

"You can't be mad about Mark when you're with someone else too!"

He turns on her. "You think that settles the score? After what you did? We were separated when I met Meredith. We were _married_ when you slept with Mark."

"We're only separated now because you walked away. You always walk away, Derek!"

"No, we're separated because _you_ screwed my best friend, Addison." He shakes his head. "It's unforgivable."

And there it is.

For a few moments they just stare at each other.

Then she takes a few angry steps away and starts sorting her jewelry with quick, sharp movements. They're like surgical instruments: shiny and organized. Line them up precisely and you don't have to feel anything. But when she turns around again Derek is still glaring at her, and her stomach twists.

"Mark was right about you," she says.

He doesn't rise to the bait. "You can go back to him anytime, Addison. Don't stay here on my account."

"I'm not staying on your account, Derek." Her voice shakes. "I'm staying for Savvy. I'm staying for my friend."

"Some friend," he snorts. "Too busy screwing Mark to take Savvy's call when her mother was dying."

Her eyes get very wide. And she takes a step back.

Derek rubs a hand through his hair wearily. Some of the air in the room seems to have left. _Damn it._ He wasn't planning to bring that up. He didn't mean to, not really, not when he knew how much it would hurt her.

"Addison…"

"No, you're right." She gives him that cold half-smile that makes her look like her mother. "I'm a terrible friend _and_ a terrible wife, so I won't make you put up with me anymore." With that, she stalks off. The bathroom door closes hard behind her and he hears the shower start to run.

God, she's so damned passive-aggressive. Always.

He sinks down on the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands. Three days on the island and they're ready to kill each other.

But just a few days more and they can leave. And they never have to see each other again.

… which should be a relief.

He massages his aching temples, waiting to feel relief instead of the hollow in his stomach that was carved when he thrust open their bedroom door back in Manhattan.

What does he feel now? Mostly, he just feels cold. His clothes are damp too, and he'd like to take a hot shower, but the water is still running in the bathroom. Addison always takes her time.

He changes into dry clothes, figuring it will be a while before his turn. Being warmer helps. He dims the lights and draws the curtain, watching the storm outside.

The shower is still running, the sound of water blending with the water outside.

He checks his watch, annoyed. Her aggression apparently extends to keeping him from taking a shower, which shouldn't surprise him. Addison is famous for her luxuriant showers – he's shared more than a few with her in the past – but this is getting ridiculous, especially when they're staying in a conservation center.

Sighing, he crosses the room and raps on the door.

No answer.

"Addison." He knocks again. Close to the door, he realizes the running water sounds like less than a shower now. Maybe the sink. So she's finished her shower and started her evening ablutions without giving him a chance to warm up and dry off. Typically selfish.

He raises his voice to be heard over the water. "I need to get in there, Addison!"

She still ignores him. Damn it.

"Addison!" He knocks sharply this time. "What's going on?"

After a long silence, her voice echoes from behind the door. "Nothing … Derek, I'm fine."

"Then would you mind getting out of there so I can shower?"

"You're just going to have to … wait a minute." Her voice is tight, labored.

"Addison." He jiggles the locked door and then knocks hard this time, losing patience. "Open the door! You can sulk out here, I need to take a shower."

More silence.

"Addison!"

"Use the one outside."

"In a goddamned hurricane? You'd like that, wouldn't you. Stop screwing around and open the door."

"Please go away!" Her voice is louder now but it sounds choked – unfamiliar.

"Addison, you're being ridiculous. Let me in."

"Derek, please," she sounds out of breath now. "Please just get … away … from the door."

He forces his tone to be less angry, hoping it will help. "Look, Addison, you threw up all over me yesterday, this is no time to turn shy."

When he presses his ear against the wood, he hears something between a moan and a whimper.

"What the hell is going on in there?"

"Nothing," she chokes out. "Can you just –" but a pained gasp interrupts whatever she was planning to say.

He calls her name again and she doesn't respond, but with his ear pressed to the door he hears that moaning sound again, panting breaths.

"I'm coming in there." He's still not sure how, and he can't tell if she's screwing with him or if something is very wrong, and neither option is a good one.

"No, Derek…" There's panic in her voice now, real fear, and that makes up his mind quickly.

Jiggling the flimsy lock multiple times, he tries to remember what Mark taught him about picking locks when they were teenagers, and finally, frustrated, just hopes for the best and slams his shoulder into the door.

Just twice and it bursts open as pain rips through his shoulder – thank god for unrenovated hotel rooms –

"Addison!"

For one crazy minute he doesn't see her.

The he realizes it's because she's hunched over inside the clawfoot bathtub, naked, holding her knees and curled so tightly in on herself that the top of her bowed head barely clears the rim of the oversized tub. The showerhead is turned off but there's a stream of water running consistently out of the tub's faucet.

"Addison." He rushes to her side. "Are you all right? What the hell is going on?"

She doesn't respond; when he crouches down what he sees makes him freeze with horror: the water swirling underneath her tightly curled body and running down the drain is tinged with red.

No, not tinged.

Just … red.

* * *

 _TBC. Don't throw things! I had to end somewhere. Review like it's an island rule and I'll get chapter 13 up ASAP._


	13. and we only reach that shore by faith

**A/N: You guys are amazing.** After the awesome reviews you left on the last chapter, even the ones that threw things at me, I decided you definitely needed another nice long chapter up today. This was initially going to be two shorter chapters, but I think you deserve this big one after how great you've been. Island rules, after all...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _13\. and we only reach that shore by faith, you see_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

Blood.

The substance gathering under her body in the clawfoot tub is … _blood._

"Addison!" He says her name sharply but she doesn't respond.

Reaching one hand out, he tries to move her sodden hair so he can see her face; she draws away from his fingers but she raises bleary eyes to his at last. She's small in the tub, so small.

"Addison, what's going on?"

"No, it's … okay. Sorry, it's, uh … I'm fine." He's relieved to hear her voice, weak though it sounds, but her face contorts then and he grabs her arm, worried she's going to slide down the wet surface. Her flesh is cold and slippery, shaking under his fingers; he still can't see the source of the blood.

"Did you fall? Are you hurt?" He grasps at straws and pulls a little bit on her arm, trying to get her attention. "Addison, talk to me. What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just, uh, well … I guess I'm … having a miscarriage."

Her eyes are very bright, her face pale.

"What?" He's stunned. "You're … pregnant?"

"I guess I must have been." Her voice is mechanical, blank.

"You didn't know?"

"No." She winces. "Not … not until now."

"But you're sure…"

She starts to shake harder, then. Her pupils are dilated; when he presses a clinical hand to her face her skin is cold and clammy.

"Derek, I'm … " Her teeth are chattering in between words. "I think I'm…"

… going into shock. _Damn it_. "It's okay, you're going to be fine," he says automatically. He grabs a towel hanging on the back of the door and wraps it around her shoulders, holding it closed when she doesn't make any move to help him. "Just try to breathe. Are you in pain?"

"Yeah." She exhales sharply. "Yeah, a little."

Her body stiffens under his hand then and she curses.

"Addison!"

"It's okay, it's okay, it's just … cramping." Her voice is faint.

"You need to get out of there." There's gooseflesh scattered over her arms, her lips so pale they're almost white. He shuts the faucet off with his free hand. "Can you stand?"

"I don't know." Another cramp seems to overtake her and she clutches her knees to her chest, moaning. He's alarmed. Addison has always had a high pain tolerance; he watched her break an ankle skiing in Park City and still insist on taking the lift back to the lodge with everyone else, casually chatting about what she'd like to drink that night.

"Okay. Let me help you." He holds out his hand.

Her eyes are more than bright, he realizes, they're glassy, almost vacant when she looks up at him, and she makes no move to take his hand.

"Addison." He inches forward over the edge of the tub. "You need to get out of there," he repeats. "Let me help you." But the angle is tricky and she doesn't seem willing or able to help him. He tries again. "Can you get your arms around my neck?"

She reaches one arm out very slowly, the other still clamped around her midsection.

With excruciating care, he lifts her out of the slippery tub. She groans a little bit at the pressure and he feels wetness against him that's more than just her damp body. He sets her feet on the bathmat, still supporting her weight. When he holds her away he sees there's a dark stain on his pants.

Blood. Her blood.

Her teeth are chattering harder now.

Still supporting her with one hand, he grabs the fluffy bathrobe hanging on a hook next to the shower and wraps her in it, holding her against him for a moment and moving one hand along her back instinctually to warm her. Her whole body shakes, worrying him.

"Okay. You're going to be fine. We just need to get you to – "

She's trying to say something, her voice muffled in his shoulder. He eases her back.

"No hospital," she mumbles. "Island."

 _Shit_. Of course there's no hospital on the island.

"It's okay," she whispers. "Derek, I'm okay, I just need to…"

But then her knees buckle.

 _Fuck_.

He grabs her before she can fall, which makes her cry out in pain; when he's holding her again he mutters apologies against the wet hair matted to her skull. "You need a hospital, Addison."

"No … hospital … here."

"We have to get back to the mainland then."

"Please, Derek … I don't want to make a fuss."

"A fuss? You're bleeding, Addison, you can barely stand. You need to get checked out."

"Derek, please … they have enough to deal with, Savvy's family, I don't want you to make a fuss."

"No. Are you crazy?" He shakes his head. "I'm not letting you bleed out so you can keep from making a _fuss_ , Addison!"

"It's okay, really, it's … I think it's done …" but then another cramp seizes her and she doubles over, moaning. He's already supporting her; now he slides a hand under her knees to carry her the short distance to the bed, setting her down above her protests about stains and whatever other goddamn etiquette nonsense seems to be keeping her from realizing they're facing a real emergency.

Her fingernails bite into his hand when another wave of pain overtakes her and the violent chattering of her teeth hasn't lessened even with an extra blanket thrown on top of her.

It scares him.

He's never seen her like this and she doesn't even seem concerned that he's the one seeing her like this – that, more than anything else, more than the blood and the symptoms of shock and the necessity of ensuring all the pregnancy vacates her body before infection set in – that might be what scares him the most.

He speaks quietly and urgently, hoping he can transmit to her some sense of calm he doesn't actually feel, or at least convince her that it's serious.

"We have to get to a hospital. You're bleeding ... too much, Addison. You may need a D&C and you definitely need someone to look at you. I'm worried you're going into shock."

"I'm an OB/GYN."

"Which means you're a doctor which means you're a terrible patient, damn it, stop fighting me on this."

She looks like she wants to protest but her teeth are chattering hard now and her color is frightening him. "Addison. It's okay, just – hold on."

Of course there are no telephones in the room, no phone lines at all on the island. Just the one conservationists' cell tower that doesn't work in high winds. He shoves his boots back on, shrugs back into his windbreaker and fills its pockets with the miniature flashlight from the bedside table drawer and his blackberry, never taking his eyes off the still form on the bed, then wraps her in the extra blanket and lifts her into his arms.

"Derek…?"

"Just hold on to me if you can."

"What are you doing?"

Her tone is anxious but he doesn't answer, can't answer, he's already made his way to the door and he's forcing it open into the wind. The scream of the hinges doesn't promise the storm clearing any time soon. Addison isn't the only one shaking as he picks across the sandy path, rain soaking him almost immediately.

Altogether, he's as certain that they need to get off the island as he is _un_ certain about how to make it happen.

Rain pelts his face; he hoists her higher in his arms to try to protect her from the deluge. The riverfront outside their porch is deserted in the terrible weather, of course; with curfew called, the island is still and silent except for the call of wet wildlife that only emphasizes how isolated they are. He's not even sure if anyone else is staying at Reeds; there are other rooms, he knows, but their entrances are on the other side, up an embankment he can see is muddy and walking there with Addison seems dangerous; leaving her alone so he can go there seems worse. Savvy and her family are staying in cottages on the other side of the island; that's a non-starter.

He can't take her with him to find help but he can't leave her and as she moans in his arms all he can think about is getting her to a hospital. It's only the two of them – they might as well be the only ones on the island. No one else can help them now.

Making up his mind, he sets his sights through the dark wet night on the closest dock to Reeds.

It's only fifty feet or so down the path. There are a number of small motorized skiffs that wouldn't last ten minutes in this weather. But then he sees Beau's shining little mahogany runaround, the same one that ferried Derek and Addison from the shore to the island.

"I need to put you down for a minute," he says, and her glazed eyes look confused in the moonlight as he props her on the wooden bench at the end of the dock.

He studies the runaround; it's small, but it got them from the mainland last time – and it will have to do. Of course the key is in the ignition already – it's the island.

Kneeling on the wet dock, giving up any pretensions of staying somewhat dry, he hauls out life jackets. The rain is driving diagonally now as he straps on his life jacket and then approaches Addison. She looks confused for a moment, then shakes her head.

"Derek, no …"

"We need to get to the mainland, Addison. No signal here with these winds. There's no other way."

"But where…"

"We'll be able to call once we get close enough to the mainland." Their towers are a little sturdier on the mainland, and his blackberry is waiting in his pocket for the first moment he can use it.

"No, Derek, we can't."

"Yes. We're getting on that boat. Just … hold still," and he unwraps the blanket so he can put the bright orange life jacket over her shoulders, buckling it and then carefully tightening the straps.

She says his name one more time, weakly, as he eases her into the still-docked boat as carefully as he can. "I've got you, just … hang on."

She moans softly but doesn't protest any further, which isn't exactly reassuring. He covers her with the blanket before vaulting in beside her.

"Hang on," he says, "just hang on, Addie."

The boat roars to life and he steers with one hand, the other on Addison, trying not to remind himself how stupid it is to charter an unfamiliar course in this weather. But he forces himself to remember what he's learned and what he knows; he can see familiar landmarks if he squints into the rain – the dark blot of an island he wasn't supposed to look at; and then the far-off lighthouse of Two Crab Island.

Which means he just has to aim … well, that, and keep them both alive long enough to get help.

.-.-.

In open water, Addison worryingly quiet beside him with her head lolling back against the seat, he forces himself to stay calm. There's cold water splashing into the boat, which is rocking now with the force of the winds. They've made headway and he's about seventy-five percent certain they're on course so far. Maybe even eighty. But he can't go too fast without the very real fear of pitching them both into the water.

"Derek…"

"It's fine," he says grimly, raising his voice to make sure she can hear him, relieved to hear her talking. He's been trying to keep her awake. "We're fine, Addie. I've helmed in worse weather than this. You remember that time on Narragansett Bay, that place with the boat? Hm?"

She doesn't answer.

"Stay awake, Addison." He chances a quick glance at her. "Addie? You remember the boat?"

"I … yeah."

"You were so mad at me when the storm rolled in," he recalls. "You said we would have been perfectly safe if I'd just listened to you. Remember?" He touches her leg and his hand comes away sticky. _Damn it_. "Talk to me, Addie. Come on. Get mad at me again."

She doesn't say anything. He's afraid to turn his head too often, since he can barely see and he's basically steering with his shoulders now. "Addison. Stay awake, Addie, come on, we're almost there."

He swipes rain out of his eyes. She's quiet next to him and he reaches out to shake the knee close to him, not wanting to hurt her but needing her to stay awake. She doesn't even flinch, which worries him further.

" _Addison_. Wake up. You need to wake up. Stay with me, Addie, we're almost there."

.-.-.

Tired.

She's so tired.

There's a hand on her face, patting her cheek firmly. His hand, she'd know it anywhere, but why is he trying to wake her up? Did she miss the alarm?

"Come on, Addison."

She's so tired.

She doesn't want to wake up.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Addison."

"… tired."

"I know you are, but you need to stay awake. Come on, Addie. Talk to me."

It's noisy. It's raining and it's hard to hear over the rain. Derek feels very far away ... misty.

"Addison. You with me?"

Some cold water sloshes onto her and now the rocking motion makes more sense. She's not in bed at all.

"We're … on a boat," she mumbles, confused.

"Yeah, we are." He turns his head for a fraction of a section to smile at her. "Stay with me, Addie, okay?"

"Island," she mumbles, remembering, their angry words sloshing in her head like cold water into the boat. Their fights.

She's supposed to stay awake, she knows that, but everything feels black and faded.

And then someone is touching her. Someone else must be touching her now. Not Derek, who hates her, because the hand on her cheek is gentle, kind.

Loving, even.

Whoever it is, she's grateful for their touch; it reassures her as her eyes slide shut and the darkness takes her.

.-.-.

"Come back to bed."

"In a minute." She doesn't turn around, she's looking out the window of her old room in her family's cottage, watching diagonal sheets of rain douse the island.

"Sav ... come back to bed."

"I can't sleep," she admits, fingering the lacy curtains her mother's mother picked out.

She hears Weiss sit up in bed behind her. "At least come lie down and try, honey."

"I already tried."

He doesn't ask again, but she hears his footsteps approaching and then his hands on her shoulders. They stand quietly together for a few moments; he's watching the storm, too.

"It's really coming down out there, huh?"

"Yeah." She feels his warm, solid weight behind her as he wraps his arms around her waist. "I can't remember it like this, not for years and years."

If she closes her eyes she can summon a long-ago memory of great gusts of wind and pouring rain, the clanging curfew bell. She's small in her memory, huddled with her brother and her two closest cousins in one of the cottages – not theirs, maybe Aunt Cee's – watching the storm. _Why can't we swim anyway?_ That's what Augie, the littlest of the four, asked, and Beau shook his head. _'Cause you'll get swept out in the ocean and eaten all up._ Augie cried then and Savvy wrapped her arms around her. She was two years older, and it was her job to protect her little cousin. _Don't worry, Aug, nothing's gonna happen to you. I'll keep you safe._ Beau said _sorry, Augie,_ he never meant to scare them, exactly, he was just Beau and he always had a lot of big ideas. That night there was thunder and all four of them squeezed hands and waited for the storm to pass. She remembers that the sun came out in the morning and threw a coat of warmth over the island, drying up the rain and turning everything gold again. _See?_ She put her arm around Augie as they walked down to the beach. _Told you everything would be okay._

Savvy leans back against her husband. "I have to say goodbye tomorrow," she whispers.

His lips press onto the top of her head. "And if you don't go to sleep … it won't be tomorrow?" He holds her tighter.

"I don't know. Maybe," she admits.

"I'm so sorry, Sav." He rocks a little from side to side. "It's going to be hard, but I'll be right there with you the whole time."

"I know." She rests her arms over his where they wrap around her midsection. She pauses. "Weiss?"

"Yeah, baby."

"Something isn't right."

"I know it's hard-"

"No, I mean … something else. It just feels … off, you know?"

She senses him stiffening slightly behind her, a tensing of his muscles. "Sav…"

"I know, I know, you still don't believe in island intuition after all these years."

"It's not that."

"Good." She leans back against him again. "Because if anyone should know this island like a real Beaufort, Weiss … it's you."

"That's an island compliment, all right."

"It is." She leans forward slightly as if she'll be able to see more through the darkened rain-slashed windows. "I hope I'm wrong, honey, I really do … but I still feel like something isn't right."

.-.-.

He's shouting instructions before the ambulance doors swing open. He dialed 911 as soon as he had a signal, still a few hundred feet from the shore, and by the time he pulled in he was desperately grateful to see he had company. He's going to make a hell of a donation to whatever small town emergency services unit that came out to help them if they make it through this.

There are two other men outside now, too – Derek realizes he's pulled into a private boat launch; where, he has no idea. But he can't be worried about that; he's too grateful to be on the mainland with a cell signal, to have a sea of hands helping him dock the boat and carry Addison to shore. Her head is lolling against his shoulder now and he's doing his best not to panic as he barks as much as he knows to the EMTs, a jumble of physician's orders and civilian's panic.

"Set her down. Set her _down_ , sir," one of the EMTs says sharply, pushing over the gurney and finally helping Derek unpeel his hands himself. They lift the bloodstained blanket from her to strap her in and he feels nauseous as they start to examine her.

"She's tachy," one says to the other, who nods; "pressure's low. Core temp too – let's get her covered up."

They place a warming blanket on her.

"Sir? What's happened? Talk to us," and Derek realizes that he's been mumbling to himself.

"She says, uh, she says she's miscarrying." He touches her face, worried by its pallor, the blue-tinged look underneath, if reassured by the slight movements of her chest under the blanket. The EMT brushes him back.

"How far along was she?"

"I just - I don't know," he admits. "She said she didn't know she was pregnant."

"No prenatal care, then? No sonogram?"

"Obviously not," he snaps, then panic surges through him. "You think it's extrauterine?" The thought hadn't even occurred to him, he'd been so focused on her symptoms of shock, on the blood and her fading consciousness.

"We won't know until we get her to the hospital, so let's move." The EMT turns back to him as they snap on the rest of the monitoring equipment. "What the hell were you doing out on the water tonight?"

"We had to – no doctors on the island," he mumbles.

"That damn island. I should have known." The EMT shakes his head. "You're a fool is what you are."

"We didn't have cell service in the storm!" The rain is lighter on the mainland; they're somewhere rural, clearly, but it has the sense of a … normal place, for lack of a better word, without the island's wild foliage and constant sense of eerie otherworldliness.

"Well, everyone on that island is a fool, then. Living like a bunch of hermits all secretive with their ways. Damn Beauforts."

The two EMTs are practiced and efficient despite their critical words, loading the gurney into the ambulance and even taking Derek's instructions. He barely has time to thank the locals who helped with the boat before he's vaulting into the ambulance to take a seat next to the gurney.

"She's not a Beaufort," one of the locals points out as one of the EMTs climbs into the driver's seat, the other in the back with Derek to monitor Addison. "She's got red hair, see? And _he's_ a Yankee."

"Then it's probably a good thing they left the island. You know what happens to strangers who go near that place, don't you?"

The doors close before Derek hears the answer. He's holding Addison's cold hand in his. It's her left and her rings cut into his fingers; she's still wearing them. He stares and the EMT misinterprets it.

"Better take those off before her fingers swell."

"But-"

"Go on."

Numbly he loosens and then slides off the rings, with some difficulty, they're clinging to her finger. Either her hand is already swelling or she just doesn't want to let go. And then he's holding the rings in the palm of his hand, suddenly confused.

"Put 'em on," the EMT directs patiently, "so you don't lose 'em. Bet she won't want to wake up to find you lost her jewelry, I know mine wouldn't."

He slides the two cold metal rings onto his pinky finger and takes Addison's hand again. It looks different bare; other than in the OR, he hasn't seen her without her rings since the day he first slipped them onto her finger. Somehow her hand seems smaller, now. For a moment they're back in the church, she's laughing and crying at once under an elaborate hairstyle, a cascading veil, and he's joining cold metal to her warm hands, joining the two of them together.

Then the siren echoes through his head and he's ripped back to reality.

"Hurry," he pleads as the two EMTs speak to each other.

"She's decompensating. Get that mask on."

He's pleading with them to help her, forgetting everything he knows about shock and emergency treatment, just another terrified family member of a patient whose world is a blur with one terrifying focal point.

 _Addison_.

And when the doors to the ambulance swing open and then the sliding emergency doors welcome them with blinding fluorescent lights and a flurry of activity all he can do is plead. They hold him back anyway as they wheel her away for treatment, there are hands on his shoulders, questions aimed at him and it all sounds like jibberish.

"Sir. Sir! We need you to try to calm down. We have some questions."

"She was fine," he mumbles, "she was fine, she was … she went outside, and it was raining."

"Sir," it's a young doctor, _when did he and Addison get so old that they stopped being the young doctors_ , and this kid must think he's crazy with the two glittering rings on his pinky finger, soaking wet clothes, still clutching the blanket from Reeds for no other reason than Addison's reaction if he misplaced something from the island.

"They crossed Three Rivers in the storm – get him something dry to put on before he goes into shock too," the doctor snaps to someone, and then soft-voiced nurses are helping him; they're being far, far too kind, if they only knew what he had done…

"I was fighting with her." Derek's voice echoes in his own head: he could be whispering or he could be screaming.

They corral him once he's shoved dry scrubs a size too big over his head, request his permission for an emergency D&C, _for his wife_ , and he says _of course, of course, just help her,_ and then they force hot coffee into his hands laced with sugar and cream. Addison would hate it but he drinks it anyway knowing his body needs it.

It's a _straightforward procedure_ and _intrauterine_ and _she's going to be fine_ and _sometimes these things just aren't meant to be_ and _she's going to be just fine_ and he doesn't scream, slap the coffee from their hands, or tell them how many _straightforward procedures_ Addison herself has performed. They say _I'm sorry_ and he doesn't ask for what, they say _just hang tight_ and he shakes his head.

"I was fighting with her. All weekend I've been fighting with her. She was upset, and I … and I said things …"

"That's not how it works," a new doctor says gently, a woman this time with a ponytail and shadows under her eyes. She must have been working all night.

"But she was upset. We were fighting and she was upset."

"And if every woman who fought with her husband had a miscarriage, the human race would have died out long ago." She pats his arm. "You really got on the river in this weather, came all the way from that island out there?"

He nods, forcing himself to drink the hot sweet liquid, knowing he won't be any use if he lets himself slip away.

"I'd say you made up for the fighting, then. She may be fine now … but she was in bad shape."

"No … you don't understand," but before he can say anything else, the first doctor is striding toward him, chart in hand.

"Mr. Shepherd?"

He's too exhausted to correct him, or maybe it just doesn't matter.

.-.-.

She's floating peacefully on the water. It's calm, probably the bay. She can hear Derek just faintly; he must have talked her into fishing with him. He says it's peaceful out there, and maybe he's right.

"Addison."

She blinks.

"That's right, open your eyes." His voice is quiet, but insistent.

Slowly, a face comes into focus above hers.

"There you go. Hi."

"…hi," she says hoarsely. "What, um …" she looks around, seeing unfamiliar white walls, bright lights. "… what happened?" Her body feels heavy and tired.

"What do you remember?"

When she doesn't answer, he places a hand on her cheek, gently, and the touch of his fingers brings it all back. The cold water pooling around her. The blood, the fear. Pain. Derek bursting through the bathroom door. The feel of movement that wasn't her own, suspended in the air, hurting her. The boat, shaken by the wind. And his hands, reassuring her.

"You took … you stole a boat?"

"I stole a boat." He grimaces. "I figured I'd make it up to them later."

"Did you crash it?"

"Don't you have any faith in me?" His tone is gentle, too, even teasing. "The boat is fine, Addie. Don't worry about the boat. I'm, uh, I'm glad to see you awake."

"Thanks," she says hoarsely. She glances down her body to her midsection, comprehending the soreness. "I was …"

He nods.

"But I'm not …"

He nods again. "You went into shock," he tells her gently. "There's no hospital and we're the only doctors on the island unless you count that one cousin who's an aromatherapist."

"I don't," and she'd smile if her lips didn't feel so dry.

"I know you don't. So … "

"So you stole a boat." She pauses. "Water," she whispers.

He feeds her ice chips instead and she's grateful for the cool moisture.

She flexes her fingers carefully, trying to come back to her own body, and then the empties of her left hand registers. Oh god. Her rings are at the bottom of Three Rivers, or halfway out the Atlantic by now. "Derek," she chokes out, "my-"

"It's okay, I have them."

"You do?"

He shows her his left hand, both her rings decorating his pinky. She reaches to touch them but her arm feels heavy.

"Take it easy, Addie."

"I'm tired," she whispers. She feels that gentle pull of the darkness again, less terrifying this time but no less insistent.

"Close your eyes," he encourages.

"Are you-"

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, but she hangs onto his hand anyway as her eyes drift closed.

.-.-.

The OB comes in to check her out.

He's still holding her hand when her eyes flutter open, watching confusion register on her face. She's been murmuring in her sleep; he has questions, and this time he's going to ask them, but not now. He reassures her instead.

"Addison, you're in the hospital," he says quietly. "You, uh, remember you had a D&C but you're fine now."

"Here?" Her eyes widen.

"Here," he confirms. "We were on the island, and –"

"Where are we now?" She looks around nervously.

"Don't worry, we have real hospitals down here," the OB says cheerfully. "I even went to Duke. They call it the Harvard of the South, you know. I assume _you_ went to the Duke of the North?"

"Columbia, actually."

"Ah." The OB raises an eyebrow. "The Emory of the North, then."

Addison smiles a little bit at this and Derek finds himself squeezing her hand, and then wincing.

"Derek?"

"It's nothing, Addie." He pats her hand.

The OB is frowning at him. "Have you been checked out?"

"Me?" Derek glances around. "I'm fine."

"So fine you're favoring your left arm and flinching on the right?"

"It's nothing," he assures her.

"Okay then," the OB says briskly, "Guess you don't need me to look. Probably don't use your hands at your job, right … _doc_? You have one of those straightforward type desk gigs where you can dictate everything?"

Derek sighs. "Fine."

Reluctantly he slides off the sweatshirt hastily procured for both of them from the hospital's gift shop.

"Ooh." The OB winces sympathetically. "I'll get ortho to take a look, but I'd say you'll be fine with some ice and anti-inflammatories."

Addison is staring. "Your shoulder."

"It's fine, Addie."

"You broke down the bathroom door," she says softly.

He grimaces. "I, uh, I didn't really have a choice."

" _And_ based on the damage, I'm guessing he carried you a ways too." The doctor looks over the chart at Addison. "Don't worry, he'll be fine, ice and rest. Maybe some PT when y'all are back up in New York."

He sees Addison tense at this. Before he can say anything, she looks at him. "Derek … we need to get back to the island."

"You need to rest first." He looks at the OB for confirmation.

"Derek, I'm stabilized, it's an outpatient procedure. We came for the funeral, and I want to be there for the funeral. You have to return the boat anyway," she adds, but he's focused on her words.

 _We_ came for the funeral. Not each of them, but _we._ When did that happen?

Before he can think about this too much, Addison sends him out for coffee. He's already paying at the small cafeteria when he realizes that she must have wanted to talk to the doctor alone.

…

It takes a few hours during which he persuades her to eat some breakfast and procures prescriptions for both of them before they clear her to leave, a new doctor coming in one more time to check her out.

"Just to confirm, y'all will need to wait a few months before you try to conceive again," she warns.

They look at each other nervously. "No, we weren't –" Derek hastens to explain. "I mean, we ..."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She glances at the chart on the table. "This says the husband brought her in. You're not the husband?"

"No, I am the, uh, the husband," he says grimly.

"Oh." She looks from one of them to the other. "Okay, well, Mrs. … Shepherd, you'll want to wait a few months before you try again. And no intercourse until your cervix is fully closed – we usually recommend two weeks."

"That shouldn't be a problem," she mutters.

They get a lift to the private boat launch where he docked the night before, the homeowners who helpfully tied up the runaround have it ready to go and are vocally pleased to see Addison up and walking.

It's a completely different experience in the boat together this time; the weather is cool with the promise of sunny warmth and the sky clear. The boat bobs gently, in no rush, as he charters a course toward the island.

Addison is sitting up in the seat next to him with her legs curled under her, squinting a little in the light and watching the blue water. Her long hair, curling from yesterday's rain, fans out behind her when the breeze picks up.

He waits until they're halfway across, his gaze focused firmly on the horizon where the first hint of the tiny island is starting to come into view, to ask her.

"Was it mine?"

* * *

 _To be continued. Of course. Hopefully quickly. So ... some answers, and maybe a couple more questions. Par for the Addek course. All of you had such good and interesting guesses about Addison's medical condition, often way more thoughtful than mine, and I love seeing you start tying together the threads of the past/flashbacks. No need to hate me too much though, because next chapter, you're going to get some answers. Like real ones. For real. So ... pretty please keep up the awesome reviewing because it truly inspires me to update as quickly as I can!_


	14. when the clouds have passed away

**A/N:** Thank you so, so much for the feedback on this story. I'm honestly blown away in the best possible way. I'm sorry it's been so long between trips to the island, but we're back with a nice long chapter, the longest yet, and one that - for once - might just have some answers for those of you who've been clamoring. Starting off with a flashback, as you do...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _14\. when the clouds have passed away_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _"How's she doing?"_

" _She's ... okay." Addison seems to be mostly asleep, her head resting in her friend's lap while Savvy strokes her long hair. Between the two of them they've managed to clean her up and she's clad in some of Savvy's lounging clothes._

 _Addison's eyes flutter open at Savvy's words, then closed again as she speaks in a raw, husky voice. "He's not coming, is he, Sav."_

 _Weiss exchanges a look with his wife. Very slightly, he shakes his head._

" _We're here, Addie," Savvy says gently. "We're here and you're going to be fine. Weiss, can you … can you get me another blanket, honey?"_

 _It's less than an hour before she finds him in the kitchen pouring himself a drink._

" _I know," he says ruefully when he sees her in the open archway, "but it's just one and I really need it."_

" _I didn't say anything, except … can I share?"_

 _He smiles at her as she takes a sip._

" _Addie's asleep?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _I really thought Derek would show," Weiss admits quietly._

" _You did?" Savvy smiles sadly at him. "Well. You're the optimist, we know this."_

 _He takes the tumbler from her hand and sets it on the counter, pulling her against his chest. "I didn't feel like an optimist at the hospital, I can tell you that."_

" _I'm so sorry I couldn't make it in time."_

" _Don't be. I'm sorry I don't have a stronger stomach."_

 _She smiles a little into his shirt. "Can you believe they see that and worse every day? Aren't you glad we didn't go to medical school?"_

" _No, and yes, in that order." He's stroking her hair absently. "She's going to be okay, right?"_

" _Right," she says, with enough firmness to try to convince them both._

" _Sav, she was so…"_

" _I know." She pulls back and touches his face. "I know."_

" _But you don't think she was … that she meant to …"_

" _No. I don't. I don't think. Savvy sighs. "She's a WASP. WASPs drink a lot."_

" _I know this. I judge this," he adds, "but I know this. But it's still … even for her. And I've been drinking with her for twenty years…."_

" _Weiss?"_

" _Yeah, baby."_

" _What about Derek?"_

" _What about him?"_

" _You're worried. I'm worried. But he wasn't worried."_

" _He doesn't know the whole story, Sav. She never told him, did she?"_

 _Savvy's silent for a moment. "That's different," she says finally._

" _Look, he didn't seem to be worried, okay, but …"_

"… _but you want to think the best of him still?"_

" _I was going to say 'but I'm not sure he understood,' but … yeah." He nods._

" _I told you – I married an incurable optimist." She smiles sadly at him and he leans in to kiss her. She responds, then pushes him back gently._

 _He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and sighs. "You want me to call him again, or-"_

" _No. I'll make the call this time."_

" _To Derek?"_

" _No," she says again, glancing at him. "WebCom is settling, and I can afford a few days off. Especially now, with the new tower…"_

" _The new tower," he says, getting her meaning. "You think –"_

" _I think she needs it."_

 _He nods. "What do you want me to tell Derek, if he calls?"_

" _If he calls," Savvy repeats, resting a hand on his chest. "I don't know. I'll ask Addie in the morning."_

" _He might already be here by then."_

" _He might … but he won't."_

" _Pessimist," he scolds gently._

" _Optimist."_

 _She leans against him once more and he wraps his arms around her. For a moment she just drinks in his strength, feeling a combination of love and gratitude that sustains her. Then she pulls back. "Weiss … keep an eye on her, will you?"_

" _Of course. Where are you going?"_

 _She tilts her head up to kiss him. "I'm going to call my brother."_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

For a few moments of silence as they drift across the open water the question hangs in the air between them.

 _Was it mine?_

Derek steals a glance beside him; Addison is still looking out at the horizon. Her hair is wild from the storm the night before, untamed, and it's whipping around her face. They've been going almost full throttle, the engine is louder than a purr and he wonders for a moment if she even heard his question. He reduces their speed, finally just cutting the engine and letting the boat sit.

Addison turns to him, looking anxious.

"The motor was loud," he says lamely. It sounds like the excuse it is.

She doesn't respond. The boat bobs quietly and other than birds calling overhead, and a dragonfly who seems intent on riding back to the island with them, they're alone in the newly calm sea.

"Addison…"

"I'm sorry," she says softly, and there's no need for more words.

He understands what she means.

So it wasn't his. He feels … _something_ , but he's not sure what, yet, and realizes he'll have to wait to analyze it.

"I was, um, it wasn't even six weeks LMP," she continues, offering medicine like an apology.

Addison was meticulous about birth control, like most things, in his memory. He'd expect her to notice a missed period under almost any circumstances – he can recall her panic when she was late once during their intern year before she figured out it was down to the insanity of her work schedule. With some discomfort he realizes how … insane, for lack of a better word, the last month must have been for her to miss this.

Still, there was so much blood. He makes tentative reference and she shrugs a little.

"It's, uh, it's like that sometimes." She's looking down at her lap now. "It was like that the last time, too."

 _The last time._ He freezes. "What do you –"

"Derek … "

He stops talking when she says his name.

"…let's go back to the island," she finishes softly. "Please?"

He glances at her white, exhausted face, the trembling hands in her lap, and nods his assent. Releasing the throttle, he guides the boat back to its traveling speed. As little bits of spray dot his face like tears, he finds himself extending one hand over the divider between them. After a moment, her fingers find his, and they enfold.

.-.-.

There's a tall, broad-shouldered man waiting on the dock as they approach the island; he's just a silhouette at first and Derek can't tell if it's Beau, Boswell, or one of the dozens of other cousins and cousins-in-law whose names he hasn't learned. The blond is shading his eyes as Derek pulls the runaround into shore, one hand gripping a walkie-talkie.

"I've got 'em," Derek hears the man say into his device. "Just got in. Yeah, they seem okay."

Then he gives Derek and Addison a smile that creases his tanned face. "Welcome back," he says simply, and Derek recognizes him as man who was talking to Boswell in the shelter the previous night, though which cousin he is among the many Beauforts he has no idea.

"Thanks," he says, grateful for the assistance. Derek helps Addison out of the boat while the other man holds the vessel still, then helps him get her secured again.

Addison is still holding the blanket he made sure not to leave on the mainland, the one he wrapped her in the previous night in their room at Reeds. Derek leads her to the bench on the dock, unclips her life jacket when she makes no move to do so, and encourages her to sit. She sinks silently on the bench, arms folded around herself and staring at the water. She's wearing an uncharacteristic pink sweatshirt with a cat on it that screams _something's wrong_ even louder than her stiff posture and pale face. Derek glances down at his own red Atlanta Falcons sweatshirt – the options in the hospital's small gift shop were limited, to say the least.

When he returns to make sure the boat's secured, he sees the other man's gaze drift to Addison.

"She okay?"

"She will be."

The other man nods. "Good. You really went all the way to the mainland in the storm, huh?"

"Yes."

"Helped yourself to Beau's runaround?"

Derek shifts his stance with some embarrassment. "It was the strongest-looking boat at the dock."

"Even with curfew … and the weather … "

Derek looks over at Addison's hunched form. "What else could I have done?"

The other man shakes his head. "You're crazy enough to be a real Beaufort, I can tell you that," he says, and his tone is admiring.

Derek absorbs the unexpected praise for a moment, then takes a half step closer even though they're fifteen feet from a distracted Addison.

"Look … she, uh, she really needs to rest. I know the others have probably been worried, and she didn't want to cause any problems..."

"Got it. Well, you know Savvy's like a dog with a bone but I'll do my best to get y'all some privacy."

"Thank you so much."

"It's nothing. Glad y'all made it back in one piece."

Derek realizes he still hasn't caught the man's name, and if he lets the moment pass he may never recognize him again in the sea of Beaufort cousins. "You've been so helpful, I'm sorry but I can't remember your name. There are just so many –"

"So many blonds? That's the truth, for sure." The other man smiles, holding out one large, tanned hand. "No problem. I'm Casey."

And Derek finally puts two and two together as he reaches out to take the proffered hand.

"Casey," he repeats as they shake hands. "I've, uh, I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe a word of it." He winks. "Go on and get some rest now and I'll do my best to keep the Beauforts at bay."

Addison doesn't move as he approaches, or when he sits down on the bench next to her.

"Let's go inside," he suggests carefully.

She nods, but still doesn't make an effort to get up. He stands first, offers her his right hand out of habit and then can't help a brief hiss of pain as she lets him pull her to her feet.

"I'm sorry!" Both her hands are on his shoulder now, cold fingers manipulating his sore muscles. "I forgot."

"So did I." He covers her hand with his left. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

Her arms drop down again to fold over her chest.

"Let's go back to the room."

.-.-.

Dread creeps in as they approach the door to their room at Reeds. Last night was such a blur he's not sure what the state of the room will be, other than … not good. He's trying to decide whether it makes sense to sit Addison on the patio to give him a chance to clean up first when he realizes he doesn't have a key.

"Here," Addison says as if she's read his mind, and she bends carefully, lifting the cushion to snag a flash of metal from the wooden slats of the porch swing.

He pushes the door open reluctantly, bracing himself for a mess.

But there's no mess.

Someone has cleaned up the room: the bed is made with a fresh blanket at the foot, there's no sign of the wet towels he left strewn around, not a single bloodstain to be seen. The hastily scrawled note he left on the knotty pine dresser in case anyone looked for them is gone; in its place are fresh flowers in a vase.

He turns to Addison. "Does the island magic include elves?"

She smiles a little at that, but she's practically shaking with exhaustion.

"Why don't you lie down, Addie?"

She nods and lets him help her toward the bed, then pauses. "Wait. I want to clean up first."

"Okay." He's not sure how best to handle that. "Um…"

Then he's saved when there's a knock on the door. So much for privacy. He gets Addison situated on top of the bed first, assuring her he'll help her clean up soon, and then opens the door.

And doesn't see anyone.

Until he lowers his gaze to see a small blond head. The little boy standing outside the door - tan and sunburn fighting for control of his face, bright blue eyes - holds up a covered picnic basket that seems to be heavy enough to require both hands.

"Mister Derek, I brought some food 'cause y'all didn't get breakfast."

"Oh. Thank you. That was nice of you," Derek says, accepting the tray.

"There's more in the fridge, too," the boy continues. My daddy said y'all would be hungry after your trip."

"That was nice of him."

"He said you wouldn't know where to find food 'cause you're a-"

"That sounds like it might be a little less nice," Derek interrupts quickly, "but it's probably still fair." He smiles at the little boy, who he realizes now must belong to Beau. "Thank you, uh…"

"Christopher."

"Right. Thank you, Christopher."

Derek shakes his head after he's back in the room. "Five kids."

"Your mom did it," Addison points out.

"True. We were a handful, too."

"Yeah." She draws her knees up on the bed, the word _kids_ seeming to make her pensive.

He sits down next to her, carefully so as not to rock the bed too much. She's tracing the fabric of the quilt, not looking at him.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know." There's no inflection to her tone. "What good would it do?"

"You live with him," he says tentatively.

"I don't. I'm just … sleeping there," she mumbles, then raises her head. "You know I can't - and he feels guilty, I think, about what happened with you, but it's not …" Her voice trails off.

Mark feels guilty? Derek considers this. He had plenty of missed calls from his former best friend, early on, but he ignored them just as he ignored Addison's. There was no survival without blocking their existence, not then.

Addison winces instead of continuing and he rests a hand on one of her legs. "Are you in pain?"

"Not really."

He checks the time; she's not due more painkillers for another hour and she's always reluctant with meds anyway. "You should rest." He pats her leg and stands.

"Derek –"

"Yeah."

"Will you stay?"

"Of course." He sets himself on the marriage bench, where they shared a jar of white lightning what seems like a lifetime ago.

"I'm not tired," she complains softly when a few moments have passed. She's sitting propped up in her clothes – typical Addison, refusing to get under the covers until she's had a chance to clean up, but he's in no hurry to try to figure out the logistics of that.

"Try to rest," he suggests. "You need-"

"I know," she sighs. "It's not my first time."

So she hinted in the boat. He supposes this is as much an indication she wants to talk as anything. He waits for her to go on, thinking of Weiss's increasingly intense calls a couple years back. No … that doesn't make any sense. Weiss didn't say anything about a miscarriage; he would have told him.

"It was a long time ago," she murmurs in response to his unspoken question. "Before I met you. It's, uh, it's ancient history."

 _Ancient history._ Before they met. College? Weiss's protective stance the first time they met, the way they teased him, _papa bear,_ is it related?

"Tell me," he suggests gently.

"It was no big deal." Her voice sounds faraway and quiet. "I was … seeing someone Sav and Weiss didn't like. In college, when I was a junior."

He nods; it doesn't sound familiar so far. He knows Addison dated around in college, nothing serious, or at least that's what she's told him before.

"It was no big deal," she says again.

"Such a no big deal that it's –" He breaks off at her expression and softens his tone. "Look, Addie, can you just tell me?"

"Can you not look at me?"

"Addison."

"Please."

"Okay, fine."

But the distance between them suddenly seems like too much. Taking a chance, he crosses the room and takes a seat on the other side of the bed, careful to focus his gaze on the flowers across the room instead of on the woman next to him. There. He's not looking at her.

"Go on," he prompts.

"Savvy and Weiss started dating junior year," she says quietly, apparently accepting his new position and turning her own head to gaze out the window. "It was serious right away, you know, they were together constantly and I went from seeing her all the time to … not."

He nods without looking, as she requested. So far the story sounds a lot like his early courtship with Addison in medical school, and Mark's concurrent complaints.

"I was lonely," she admits, her gaze still focused out the window. "I had other friends and … dates, you know, but it wasn't the same. Sav and I used to do everything together. And dates aren't boyfriends, you know?" She pauses. "So I, uh, I found a boyfriend."

Derek is looking away from her still, with some effort, and doesn't interrupt.

"He was my TA, actually, he was a PhD student. He was older, you know, and smart and … things moved quickly and then I wasn't lonely anymore."

She stops talking and he sees the anxious movements of her hands in his peripheral vision. Tentatively, he reaches across the quilt separating them, still not looking, until he feels her take his hand. He gives her palm an exploratory squeeze and she returns it.

And then starts talking again. "He, uh, you know, I was young, our relationship was … well, you know how girls are at that age, drama."

He's not sure what she means but doesn't want to interrupt.

"I guess you could say we … fought a lot," she says quietly. "Savvy didn't like it, and she got Weiss involved, and they were … so yeah, he was protective, when you met him."

"Because he didn't like your boyfriend," he prompts gently.

"We used to fight a lot," she repeats, and he hears something different in her inflection that makes his blood feel cold.

"Addison…"

"It's fine, believe me, we've both seen much worse," she says tightly.

" _Addison._ "

"Stop. It wasn't a big deal, I told you." Her voice is wooden. "It's fine."

"Addie..."

"I had a miscarriage," she says bluntly, switching topics in a way he knows is designed to get him off her back - it's an old strategy, but he accepts it.

"I'm sorry."

She waves a dismissive hand. "It was … very early, like now. And they said, you know, some women have extensive bleeds even early in the first trimester, and it was coupled with – "

She stops talking.

"Coupled with what?"

"I, uh, I fell," she says quietly and his stomach cramps at her tone.

"Addie…"

"No, it wasn't like that, we were just fighting in a … stupid place, and I fell."

 _I fell._ How many times did he hear that from a battered patient in the ER? His body is aching as if he's the one who _fell_ or as if it's finally feeling the strain of the last twenty-four hours.

"It's not a big deal," she says again. "It was just … it was an accident, it was stupid, blown all out of proportion."

"How does the island fit in?"

She glances at him and he sees her head turn, and turns to look at her.

"How'd you know?"

"Hints," he shrugs. "So…"

"When I was in the … when I was recovering, Bos flew up, you know, he used to come every other spring break and we were supposed to go to this festival. And, um, he found out what happened and he took it hard."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what Bos is like."

Derek waits.

"Bos, uh, I guess he put him in the hospital. And we left, went out to the island."

"Who's we?"

"Me. Savvy. Bos. We drove down to Beaufort Grove and Beau met us there."

Derek tries to absorb all the new information at once.

"That's why you're so secretive about Boswell?"

"I guess so." Addison's back to playing with the quilt edge. "I was kind of a mess after everything that happened and ... Bos, he … helped put me back together, you could say."

"You had a relationship with him?"

"No, it wasn't like that. We didn't have those kinds of feelings for each other. It was just …"

"Island magic," he suggests gently, and she nods.

"So that's it." She pauses, worrying a bit of quilt between two fingers. "I didn't see him again for ... years, not until almost two years ago."

He can't tell whether she means Boswell or her ex-boyfriend, but suddenly the connections in time and _almost two years ago_ click into place.

He takes one of her hands in his, letting it anchor him. They're talking and he doesn't want to lose the opportunity, even if he's concerned he'll scare her off. He decides to take a chance.

"Almost two years ago. That's when Weiss calls me."

She blinks. "And you didn't call him back," she recalls ruefully. He flushes in response, a little confused. So she doesn't know …

 _She's drunk, and I don't mean just drunk, I mean …_

"I, uh, I saw him that day," she says quietly. "He was … I was treating a patient who'd been in a minor collision and her husband was on his way and then he was there, he walked in and I – it was him. He was the father." She shakes her head. "And I – Derek, I don't even know if he recognized me but all I needed was that look that one look and – "

"And?"

"And I left. Told my resident to tell Chief Drake I was sick and wouldn't be back and ... I left."

"Where did you go?"

"To get drunk," she says, shame coloring her tone. "I don't remember that much of it, to be honest, except I do remember the bartender giving me the house phone and telling me to call a friend or he was calling 911."

He swallows. That's more than _drunk_. That's ...

"You called Savvy."

She nods. "I don't think I knew what time it was, it was early, she was working, I guess and I don't really remember but they told me I left a message. Messages. Maybe a few. I guess Weiss showed up and I don't remember anything else except waking up in the hospital after they pumped my stomach. Savvy was standing there and she was crying and I thought – I thought it was like the last time."

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. "How did all this happen and I never –"

"I never wanted you to know about what happened in college. I wanted to start over, in medical school, and I met you, and … I didn't want you to know. It felt good, your not knowing. I felt normal."

He's still holding her hand, moving his thumb across her soft skin. "But after, when ..." he stops talking for a moment. "You didn't call me."

She doesn't respond.

"You called Savvy," he prompts.

"I guess I didn't think you'd pick up."

"And then … you came here?" The words slip out slowly as the last puzzle piece falls into place. "You came to the island, didn't you."

She nods slowly.

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

"Addison…"

"It doesn't matter. I had a story prepared," she tells him. "But … I didn't need it."

He thinks back. They routinely wouldn't see each other for a day or two by that time, between the demands of building their practices, the additional work each of them took on, and the unpredictable nature of both their work. He'd crash at Mark's sometimes, which was closer to the hospital, and he knew she'd do the same with Savvy.

Her hand is still folded into his and he just sits, absorbing all the new information that feels like a wave crashing over his head. It takes time, to process.

And that's something he's not sure he has.

.-.-.

She _this close_ to actually stamping her foot and she might have if not for her concern about the loose floorboards on the old cottage's porch.

"Casey Eugene White, I don't care if you're my brother-in-law, I will _kill_ you and dump the body in Three Rivers right now if you don't tell me what Derek said!"

"Sav, take it easy with the threats." Weiss's hands are firm and soothing on her shoulders. "You have witnesses."

"Just tell me, Case," she pleads.

"Savvy, I already told you," Casey says patiently. "Derek said she'll be fine and she needs to rest. He said they want privacy."

" _Privacy,_ " Weiss repeats before Savvy can protest, "so no, you don't need to go traipsing over there right now."

"Addie might need me," she says stubbornly.

"Addie has Derek," Weiss counters softly.

For a moment she's quiet.

"You check on them," she offers quietly. "Please, honey. Man to man, whatever. I won't go, all right? But just – make sure they're okay."

Weiss looks torn. She touches his stubbly cheek.

"Please," she repeats, and then he nods.

"Hey, Case." Weiss turns to his brother-in-law. "You going to be okay here with a potential murderer?"

Casey grins from his vantage point a head above both of them. "I like my chances," he jokes, wrapping an affectionate arm around Savvy.

"I wouldn't really kill you, you know," she says as they watch Weiss leave, tilting her head up to see Casey's face.

He smiles down at her. "Thanks, Sav … I'm touched."

.-.-.

Derek is starting to drift off himself, still sitting up against the headboard, when he hears a hesitant knock on the door. It's quiet enough not to wake a dozing Addison, and he crosses the floor quickly so the noise won't disturb her.

"Weiss." Propping the latch open, he slips outside to speak to his friend on the patio.

"Sorry." He spreads his hands. "I'm here on Sav's orders. How's Addie?"

"She's … okay. She's resting."

"Derek." Weiss's eyes are dark with concern. "I know Addie doesn't want to upset Savvy but she's freaking out in the dark over there. We saw the note, and-"

"I'm so sorry. I tried to call."

"But the lines are still down. I know. Derek, what happened?"

"A lot more than I ever realized," Derek says grimly. "A hell of a lot more."

He sees understanding register on his old friend's face. "You know, don't you."

"I know," Derek confirms.

Weiss shoves his hands in his pockets. "Then, uh … I guess maybe we need to talk."

"Yeah." Derek nods slowly. "I guess maybe we do." He glances toward the room, out at the beach, and then back at his friend when something catches his eye.

"Weiss – can you do me a favor and stay here, just for a minute, keep an eye out in case she wakes up?"

"Sure," Weiss looks at him. "Where are you –"

"Just down to the beach for a second. I, uh, think I saw something." He's embarrassed but Weiss doesn't question it, and he doesn't know if his old friend is watching when Derek's guess is confirmed and his hand closes, briefly, around a starfish marooned on the beach as the tide pulls out. It's Addison's voice he hears in his head.

 _They wash up on the island very rarely, um, and when they do, you can make a wish on them and put them back in the ocean. '_ _Give to get_ _.' They say if it's meant to be it will come true._

He looks down at the starfish resting in his flat palm and hears Weiss's voice, down the phone line again. _Derek, listen to me …._ He hears his own cold words, the ones that fill him with shame to remember, the ones Weiss apparently never shared with Addison. Their old friend, looking out for Derek, or for Addison? Or for both. He should tell her himself, he knows this. He should, and he will, but as his fist starts to tighten automatically his throat tightens too with the realization of how much he hurt her.

 _It wasn't a big deal. It doesn't matter._

They're the phrases of someone who doesn't think their pain is important. And he's forced to reckon with the fact that he himself is part of why she tells her story that way. And when their brief time on the island is over, when he stops hurting her again, that must be how she'll tell their shared story.

He'll be one more thing that hurt her.

There's nothing he can do about it now, he reminds himself, the breeze picking up and moving his hair as he stands at the shore with the starfish in his hand.

Nothing except make sure he never hurts her again.

Closing his eyes, he blocks out any thought of someone being able to see him. _Give to get._ He whispers his wish into the wind before he throws the starfish back into the endless water.

.-.-.

"Not a peep," Weiss assures him when he returns to the patio.

"Thanks." He reaches for the door, but the other man is still blocking it.

"Derek," he says quietly, "look, I don't want to … but it's not too late, you know. To fix things."

"To fix …" His voice trails off and he shakes his head. Weiss doesn't understand. Derek can't fix a problem that's _him_. "No, I was, uh, I'm just trying to help her last night."

Weiss studies the floorboards for a moment. "Okay," he says mildly. "Did you want to … talk?"

 _I guess maybe we need to talk._

Derek hears a rustling sound from inside the room. "Not now," he says ruefully; Weiss nods and then he's gone and Derek's back inside the room with a slowly rousing Addison.

"How are you feeling?" He brushes back some of her hair when he gets to her side. She's still sitting propped up on top of the covers; it looks awkward, not that comfortable, but she refused to get under the covers without showering.

"Grimy," she says, wincing. "I want to take a shower," she adds, her tone starting to border on desperate, and he nods immediately.

"I'll help you." He glances toward the bathroom and sees concern flicker across her face.

With a sinking feeling, he understands. The tub in the bathroom may have been cleaned, the bloodstained towels and mat removed, but it's still too fresh. Too raw.

Then he remembers the outdoor shower and sees in her expression that she does too. It's chilly, though, in the calm after the storm.

"Stay here," he orders her gently. "I'll get some steam going so it's warm and then come get you when it's ready."

.-.-.

She waits by the window.

True to his word, he comes back in a few minutes; she's ready for him in the fresh robe someone left in the room. The same person who cleaned up her blood, probably, and she shudders a little to think of it.

He leads her by one terrycloth-covered elbow; her balance is fine but she's loathe to tell him to let go. She's never been in the outdoor shower here. As soon as she turns the large wooden latch the door gives way to another world.

What looked like a small wooden cube from the outside is comfortably large, yet small enough to be intimate and retain warmth. Steam from the hot spray billows around her, darkening the teak doors and bringing out the rich scent of the wood. The top of the shower is open to the bright blue sky, cool air and warm sunlight battling for control. Under any other circumstances ... it would be glorious. Now, sore and tired, the hands that are carefully supporting her remind her of a hundred showers of the past and it fills her with a powerful rush of longing and regret.

"Derek…"

"Are you okay?" He's not looking at her, she realizes, he's looking past her, and she swallows hard and then nods, slowly.

"I can stay…" he offers.

She nods again, shrugging out of her robe and hanging it on one of the hooks at the far wall; after a moment's hesitation, he sheds his clothes too and joins her under the spray. The teak boards supporting their feet have taken on water, she slides a bit and he rests his hands on her hips to steady her.

Then, for a long moment, they just look at each other. Water is pouring onto both of them, dripping down his soaked hair and spraying off the familiar muscles of his shoulders where her hands slowly rise to rest.

"I miss you," she confesses, and bridges the rest of the distance between them to press her lips to his.

He seems surprised for a moment and then he responds, lips moving gently at first and then more fiercely capturing hers. Her hands slide into his wet hair, and the kiss is intoxicating, she drowns in it, the cool skin of his face contrasting with the warmth of his lips, the heat of his mouth when she sweeps her tongue and the steam of the shower rolling around both of them.

Water flows between them, around them; the teak scent overpowers and the shower is a fragrant waterfall. She presses closer to him – they fit so perfectly, they always have; he's hard where she's soft, he yields where she pushes against him and his hands are sliding down her back, cupping her to hold her close as she melts into him.

And then the contact disappears with no warning, she's shivering a little without his warmth despite the steam, gooseflesh rising on her arms. She looks up at him questioningly, feeling the loss of his closeness like a physical ache.

"We … shouldn't," he says softly. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to get her breath back; when she opens them she's looking directly into his eyes and they're bleak under the square of bright sky overhead ... a muted, painful blue.

"Derek," she whispers. "Derek, I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"I'm sorry about everything. All of it."

"I know," he repeats. "I'm sorry too, Addie. I'm so sorry." His hand reaches out to touch her cheek, as gentle as it was in the boat, in the hospital, but she realizes she must have been wrong to read more into it. He was just concerned about her then, he thought her life was in danger. He's a good person. That's all. There was nothing else behind it.

Exhausted, disappointed, feeling too weak to hold up her own weight, she leans just her head against him, his bare skin comforting even as she keeps a chaste distance from the source of his heat. After a moment his arms come up to hold her, one hand tangling in her long, wet hair, and the other sinking into the curve of her lower back that might as well have his name stamped on it. They stand there for a long time under the water in the fragrant steam, just holding each other and breathing quietly.

* * *

 _To be continued (of course). Faster than the last update, I promise. That one was shameless. So ... some answers, maybe a couple more questions, and maybe a little bit of a twist as my babies never make it easy to make it work. I mean, Derek thinking Addison is better off without him is too sad to last forever. They did talk, though! And they will talk more. Especially if you review. #shameless_

 _Oh, and who guessed what was coming with the mysterious Casey, Bos's spouse? Remember, only Derek referred to Casey as his "wife," the rest was pure assumption. See, Derek, you just need to open your mind a little and you can fix all this. Please._

 _Did I mention I'm a shameless review hound? Just saying, it sure does keep me going on those finger-exhausting journeys through this story. So throw me a solid and review, pretty please!_


	15. lay we every burden down

**_A/N:_** You are the most wonderful readers who ever reed-ed (get it? Reeds? Island humor ftw?). Thank you for staying interested in this story, for your feedback and your general awesomeness. Updated in less than a week, so not _too_ bad, plus it's another long and meaty chapter. I hope you enjoy. Back to the island...

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _15\. lay we every burden down_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

Everything after the shower feels like a dream.

Not a pleasant dream, or a nightmare either, just – dreamy, soft, with blurred edges, from the thirsty towel he wraps around her shivering body to the feel of his arm around her guiding her inside. He rubs her hair from sodden to damp while she sits on the antique marriage bench and rests one hand on the empty place inside of her.

His hands are gentle, even caring, when he touches her, but she knows now not to read too much into it. He's a decent person, with an obligation to her after her medical crisis; that's why he's solicitous as she dresses, slowly, in soft and comfortable clothes, in the kind of lightweight fabrics she associates with the Island.

"You should lie down, Addison. Get some actual sleep."

"The funeral…"

"I know. You have time to rest for a few hours first, at least."

She wants to argue with him – not even sure why, maybe because she's not really tired. Her nerves feel alive and tingling, her insides cramping where she didn't even know a pregnancy was starting to grow.

The funeral is timed for sunset. It's already Tuesday, which is surprising in that particular Island way: part of her feels like she only traveled out here from Beaufort Grove five minutes ago; another part feels she's been here a lifetime. Something twitches in her stomach when she thinks about leaving.

Derek seems to read her mind. "Are you going to feel up to traveling on Thursday? That's just two more nights, and it's an early flight."

"I'm staying until Sunday, actually," she says quietly. "You know, to help Savvy with some things."

"Oh. Right. Well, that should be … good." He pauses. "Why don't you get into bed, Addie, and try to get some rest."

He's being gentle with her in tone and touch – so gentle it's hard to remember he's the same person who was yelling at her last night, who accused her of selfishness, of abandoning Savvy, who's been sparing no words in blaming her harshly for the end of their marriage, with brief interludes of kindness, since they arrived on the island.

How can he be the same person?

But maybe that's part of their problem. He is both of them, just like she's the woman who drove a stake through their marriage … and then all but threw herself at him in the shower. Reconciling their different parts is part of what they do. Or did. Because she hasn't parsed _we shouldn't,_ not completely, except that she's fairly sure it has something to do with an intern waiting for him in Seattle. Or, if she's more fair to him, with what he walked in on in New York.

And even if some part of him cares – because he must care, to do what he did last night, she's almost certain of that – there are many ways to care.

She nods slowly.

He turns down the covers of the neatly made bed.

"Can I get you anything?"

She shifts, curling her legs in toward her middle. "I wish I had a heating pad."

"Actually … " He looks at the top of shelf of the closet. "There's one right here." He shakes his head. "Magic, or Savvy's family thinking of everything?"

She smiles a little. "Maybe both. How did you think to look?"

He shrugs, then plugs in the heating pad and she watches him move it from hand to hand, worrying the fabric between his fingers. His hands always have to be _doing_ something and she misses the times when she would be what they were doing – playing with her fingers, stroking her hair, exploring the fabric of cuffs and collars.

She misses his touch.

"Are you, um …" She glances at the other side of the bed.

He shakes his head. "I think you should stretch out, Addison. You'll be more comfortable."

She won't.

"I don't want to sleep alone," she says before she can stop herself. "You said I would never have to." Her voice catches on the last word and when she sees his face she knows he's remembering too.

All he says is her name before she interrupts him.

"Derek, I'm not going to jump you," she tries to make it sound like she's joking, like she doesn't need him beside her.

If she needs him and he turns her down … it would be so much worse.

She takes a ragged breath and he flexes the heating pad in his hand, then rests it over her abdomen, moving his hand lightly over the material, ignoring the question hanging in the air.

"Are you in pain?" he asks finally.

"Not really. Not … not physically." She swipes a hand across her eyes, hearing her breath starting to come faster. She's not going to cry.

"Okay," he says quietly. "It's okay, don't get upset."

"Why not?" She pushes herself up to a seated position, his hand on the heating pad falling aside as she does. "Maybe it's not so bad to get upset. Maybe _you_ should get upset more often."

"Addie…"

"Just leave me alone," she mumbles, squeezing her eyes closed – not even caring that it's the exact opposite of what she said before, and if it's unfair after all he's done for her.

He doesn't listen, anyway, he's still next to her when she opens her eyes.

"You know, the doctor said your hormones would be in flux as they reset…"

"Really? You think I don't know that? Did you forget my specialty?"

Her stomach feels hollow, there's a heaviness in her throat, and she thinks she'd like to provoke a fight to make herself feel better.

It's better than crying. Anything's better than crying.

But he's very calm when he replies. "I didn't forget your specialty. But it's different when it's you."

She doesn't respond.

"I'm going to get you some water, Addie. Just … try to relax."

She sips the water from the mug they've been sharing. "I'd rather have white lightning."

He smiles at her a little nervously. "Maybe hold off on that for now."

The water feels nice on her throat, cool and soothing. "They left us food, Addison. Are you hungry? Do you want me to-"

"No. I ate before we left the hospital."

"Not much, though."

"I ate half of that bagel," she reminds him.

"That wasn't a bagel. It was white bread with a hole in it."

She smiles a little. "What are the bagels like in Seattle?"

"Better than that." He takes the mug from her hand and straightens the pillows underneath her. "Lie down."

But she flinches when she tries to settle again; the heating pad helps but cramping spreads through her body nonetheless. But when he offers her the amber bottle from the hospital she shakes her head.

"Take the painkiller. Addie, don't be a hero."

She shakes her head ahead. He sits down on the side of the bed, the warmth of his body reaching her even though they're barely touching. She knows she'll be cold when he stands up again.

"Addison." He studies the pill bottle in his hand. "Alcohol and sex aren't the only things that numb the pain you know. They make actual medicine for that."

"Look who's talking," she mutters without any real malice, but when Derek holds out the pill bottle a second time she shakes one into her hand and swallows it.

She studies his familiar profile; he looks … like himself but she can see the exhaustion in the skin around his eyes, in the set of his jaw. "You must be tired," she says.

He shrugs a little and then takes the mug of water from her hand, indicating with a slight wave of his fingers that she should lie down.

 _We don't even need words. Eleven years of marriage and five years before, too. All that history._

She can't help chewing her bottom lip, just a little, as she glances at his empty side of the bed. "Are you going to … rest here?"

She hasn't yet ended the sentence _if he says no I'll …_ but he doesn't, he just nods and for some reason he looks a little sad.

They've just been holding each other naked in the shower – like they have so many times before, she probably knows his bare skin better than her own – but they're back in the room now and decorum seems to have settled in, so she's not surprised when he pulls a soft t-shirt on before he slides into bed.

She's glad she took the painkillers, because her muscles are cramping uncomfortably as she shifts a little bit, trying not to be too obvious.

"Give the meds a few minutes to kick in," he tells her quietly, even though she didn't say anything.

He's mostly on his back next to her, one hand behind his head now, looking in her direction. The hand behind his head is the one on his other side; the arm closer to her is … empty, resting on the bed, softly curving around nothing. It's not an invitation, exactly, but she inches over with some effort and settles against him anyway. For a moment she holds her breath, waiting for him to move away, but he just closes his arm around her carefully. For a few familiar moments of shifting inhale and exhale they move in minuscule adjustments without discussing it, until her head is resting on his chest and the hand that was behind his head is lightly rubbing her arm, his other hand meshed in her damp hair.

She's exhausted.

She's suddenly, bone-deep exhausted, and her eyes are as difficult to prop open as they were on the boat. She says his name, quietly – not even sure why, to warn him? That she's going to sleep? But she feels him shushing her from somewhere inside his chest, an indistinguishable rumble that is nonetheless soothing. He doesn't say _don't_ and he doesn't say _we can't_ and she doesn't do anything except let sleep overtake her in his arms.

.-.-.

He must have drifted off, because a soft knock – on the window, not the door – wakes him. He blinks back to reality, which currently includes Addison's warm sleepy body curled around his, breaths soft and even against his neck.

Very carefully, so as not to wake her, he detaches her grip and moves her back to her side of the bed, then adjusts the covers around her shoulders.

He pulls open the door and isn't particularly surprised to see Savvy.

"What happened? Is she okay?" Savvy asks immediately.

He pauses.

"You don't want to tell me," Savvy correctly surmises.

"I'm sure Addie will tell you." Just … it's not his story to tell.

She nods. "Okay. But she's okay?"

"She's okay."

Savvy nods, looking relieved, then a smile crosses her face. "You took Beau's runaround."

Derek grimaces. "How mad is he?"

"He's not," Savvy says. "surprised, maybe a little concerned you two could have drowned, a fair bit impressed that you made it … "

Derek's face must show his disbelief because Savvy hastens to reassure him. "He is. I mean … that was a pretty crazy stunt. Beau respects crazy when it's for the right reasons."

"He doesn't seem to like me much."

"He's protective of Addie."

 _So am I,_ that's what he wants to say, but he can't. Not when he's just starting to understand how it wasn't always true.

"Derek," Savvy says gently. "You don't have to tell me what happened. But … you handled it all yourself. You didn't have to, you could have woken someone up –"

He shakes his head. He doesn't specifically say he couldn't leave her, but Savvy seems to get it.

"You didn't have to do it alone, is all I meant."

"She's my wife," he says softly.

"Yeah." Savvy studies his face for a second and then, impulsively, leans up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're both okay."

"…and not at the bottom of Three Rivers? You and me both." He smiles at Savvy. "I should go back in and check-"

But the door creaks open then. Addison stands in the open door, her hair loosely curled around her face from sleeping on it wet, cheeks rosy from sleep.

"Hey," Savvy says softly.

"Hey," Addison repeats.

"I'll … let you guys catch up," Derek says, glancing from one to the other.

"Derek," Savvy says quietly, resting a hand on his arm. "Weiss wants to talk to you. He's up at the cottage." She gives him directions, briefly, smiling. "I guess you can find pretty much anything after last night."

"Yeah." He glances at Addison. She looks more rested from her nap, her face less tense – the painkillers must have kicked in.

"You're okay?" He can't help asking it, waiting for her to make a face or even snap at him but all she does is nod, her expression mild.

"Okay. I'm going to go …" He gestures in the vague direction of the Beaufort cottages.

"See you later?" Addison's tone is just uncertain enough to make him consider staying behind. Which is strange.

"OF course." He says a quick goodbye to both of them. For some reason, as he walks up the reed-lined path, he can sense that Addison is watching him leave.

.-.-.

It takes all of her self-control – which her husband likes to tease her is more or less nonexistent anyway – to refrain from grabbing Addie and demanding to know everything that happened.

Because something happened. Something obviously happened. She's as certain of this as she is that her overnight sense that something was off was Addison. Was she sick? Injured?

Whatever she was, Savvy didn't know and couldn't help her.

But Derek knew. And Derek helped.

"You're okay now," she says softly, needing the answer to be yes.

"I'm okay," Addie responds.

Savvy can't help but notice how tired she looks.

"Do you want to go back inside?"

"No. The fresh air is nice."

"You didn't get enough of that on the boat last night?"

Savvy's not trying to be flippant, but it makes Addison smile a little so she's glad.

"I'm so sorry we worried you," Addie says softly. "It's the last thing I would have wanted. I … Derek probably overreacted…"

Of course. Addison always thought people were overreacting when they tried to help her. Savvy figured out years ago that that's a logical response to spending your formative years without any help at all.

"Thank you for checking on me."

"Please. Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

Addie smiles at the image. "Wild horses, or wild Weisses?"

Savvy smiles back. "He did his best," she admits. "Addie, I don't want to pry…"

"You couldn't pry."

"What happened?" Savvy asks quietly. "I know you didn't want to worry me, you never want to worry anyone, but I'm worried."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just – if you can, if you want to, tell me what happened?"

"I had a miscarriage." She says it matter of factly and Savvy flinches, remembering the last time. She said it the same way. Flat, no emotion.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

Savvy moves forward to wrap her arms around her old friend, more loosely than usual to make sure she doesn't hurt her.

"I didn't know I was pregnant," Addison says, drawing back. "I didn't realize it until I … until I started…"

Savvy leads her to the porch swing and they both sit down.

"I'm so sorry, Addie."

"No, it's okay."

"And with the phone lines down. You must have been so scared."

"I was, until … well." she stops talking, then looks up at Savvy with tears in her eyes. "He stole a boat," she says softly.

"I know."

"It was raining and the phone lines were down and … he was there, Sav. He showed up."

"He showed up," Savvy agrees. "Addie…"

"But it wasn't like that," Addison says softly, as if she knows exactly what Savvy is thinking.

Savvy studies her friend for a silent moment. Addie's eyes are hazy with something – exhaustion, memory? She's fingering the bands on the fourth finger of her left hand. Maybe it's habit. But maybe not. Savvy glances between Addison and the closed door of their room at Reeds. Her gaze drifts to the dock where in the middle of a storm Derek piloted both of them to safety across unfamiliar waters.

She thinks of the two of them somehow making it through storm-tossed waters unscathed but not through a round of dishes at the Warehouse.

Why do they have to make it so hard?

Something her mother used to say pops into her head: _sometimes the hardest things are the most worthwhile._

She and Augie used to elbow each other with gleeful immaturity when they heard that one, but beyond its potential for double entendre … Savvy thinks there's probably something to it.

She draws a deep breath.

"Addie," she says gently, "have you tried … talking to him?"

"To Derek?"

She nods.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Addie says after a moment, not meeting her eyes.

Savvy waits.

"It's not like that," Addison says finally. "He … doesn't want to. You know."

"You hurt him," Savvy offers quietly.

"I know that."

"Talk to him."

"I can't. I, uh, I shouldn't. We shouldn't." The ring-twirling increases in pace. She looks like she wants to say something else, but then she falls silent, and Savvy decides not to push. She just leans back in the porch swing, and then something occurs to her.

"Hey, Addie … you know what you need?"

"What?"

"Goat's Head."

Addison frowns. "You think?"

"I'll let you know. When we know when."

If Addie has a problem with this cryptic conclusion, you'd never know.

"Sav –"

"Hm?"

"What you guys did – you know, in the room – cleaning it and the heating pad and … thank you so much."

Addie's eyes are shining and Savvy rests a hand on one of her arms. "We didn't do anything."

"Your family is … incredible."

"You're one of them," Savvy reminds her. "But yeah, I agree, on both counts."

.-.-.

The solo walk along the path with birds calling above him and the breeze moving his hair is peaceful, even calming, after the turbulence of the previous night and the confusion of this morning. Weiss is on the porch of the cottage that must be theirs, and he waves when Derek approaches.

"What are you doing up here?" His question is friendly, but he seems confused.

"Savvy said you were looking for me."

"She did?"

"She said that you wanted to talk to me…"

"I did want to talk to you. I wasn't looking for you." Weiss furrows his brows. "Or maybe I was and I didn't realize it."

 _Or maybe Savvy wanted them to talk to each other_ , Derek realizes.

With good reason.

Weiss joins him on the patchy grass outside the cottage, and together they walk, without discussing the route, down to the closest dock. It's thin and rickety but they walk out far enough that the water surrounds them.

.-.-.

Weiss shifts on the rickety old dock, water moving gently around them in all directions. It's clear Savvy put him up to this, but Derek needs to take the lead.

And then he does, looking slightly ashamed and speaking quietly.

"Thank you," he says, "for taking care of Addison, you know, when-"

"You don't have to thank me," Weiss says abruptly, "and I didn't do it for you."

"Okay, I deserved that." Derek pauses. "I screwed up. I get that."

"Do you?"

"I do."

Weiss waits for Derek to say _but she screwed up too_ or _but she screwed my best friend,_ but he doesn't, he just stares out at the water.

"I wish I had known earlier."

"About Ethan, you mean?"

Derek's face changes slightly. "Is that his – she didn't mention his name." Derek pauses. "She said it wasn't that bad," he adds finally, his tone almost hopeful.

"She said that at the time, too." Weiss looks out at the water, images of a younger Addison, a younger Savvy. Savvy's teary face, _it's my fault_. "As in, when we found her."

Derek looks chilled. "When you…"

"I thought you said she told you what happened."

"She did, but –"

"She told him she was pregnant, and he threw her down a flight of stairs."

Derek's mouth is slightly ajar, and he shakes his head. "She said she fell. I mean, she said they were arguing, but…"

"He said he was only trying to push her off him, not down the stairs," Weiss says uncomfortably. "Uh, I guess maybe Bos believed him since he left in an ambulance and not a body bag."

"Jesus. And you …"

"I guess he was scared, ran off, he said he was going to get Health Services but Savvy found her first. She was hysterical, Sav. You know, she blamed herself."

"Why-"

Weiss doesn't answer. "And Addie, she said it _wasn't that bad._ "

Derek flinches. "Was she…"

"Okay? Yes, actually. You know, banged up, but apparently being drunk protects the body a little. You probably knew that already. She healed up, took the MCATs, aced them, and Ethan withdrew, quit the program. It was spring break; he never came back to campus." Weiss pauses. "She told you about …"

"When he came back. Yeah." Derek frowns, looking concerned. "She said he didn't talk to her, it was just seeing him that …"

Weiss nods. "Yeah, that was enough to do it."

Derek is still looking at him. Maybe he wants to know more. Maybe he _needs_ to know more. Weiss continues.

"It wasn't even five o'clock. It was just luck I got the message, I was calling the machine to see if the contractor had … it doesn't matter. It was early and she was … when I got there, they'd propped her up in this booth and there was some girl who worked there keeping an eye on her – thank god, because she was a mess, and the manager was trying to call 911."

Derek is silent.

"I'm no doctor but it was bad, Derek. We didn't wait at all, at the hospital. They pumped her stomach. And I guess that wouldn't have been a big deal for you since you crack skulls open for a living but I'm not a doctor and I guess I'm not very tough because I'd never seen someone get their stomach pumped before." Weiss shudders at the memory. "It was horrible."

Derek looks pained. "Weiss, I'm …"

"Sorry you didn't show up?" He can't summon any real anger, not at the man in front of him who actually seems to want to talk about this, who seems like … maybe he cares. Like maybe he cared all along.

Like maybe that night was an exception, not the rule.

He's not going to forget that phone call anytime soon. They pulled him out of surgery and he was breathless at first, _what happened?_ And then when he said, _Derek, you should come home,_ he asked it a different way: _why, what's wrong._ Weiss remembers that his fingers were shaking a little where he clutched the phone, that he still felt faintly nauseated from what he'd witnessed at the hospital … though he had no doubt Addison felt worse. _You need to come home. It's Addison._ And then there was a pause and Derek asked, _what happened now?_

And when Weiss said _she needs you,_ Derek said, _why._ He didn't ask it; there was no question mark. Weiss who was trained to read inflection and demeanor and look beyond the verbal surface couldn't have missed that if he tried. _She's upset,_ Weiss said. _She's always upset,_ Derek said. _Derek,_ Weiss remembers that he raised his voice slightly at this point, _she was drunk. She was really drunk, and-_

But Derek cut him off. _–and let me guess, now everything's a crisis. Weiss, I'm sorry you're involved in … whatever this is … but I'm working right now. And she's fine._

Weiss remembers he removed the phone from his ear and just stared at it for the moment, as if a fuzzy connection could be responsible for what he heard. _Derek…_ But before he could say anything else, Derek spoke again: _Thanks for helping her, but you don't need to stay with her. If Addison needs me she can call me._ And Weiss retorted before he could stop himself: _Really? Because that's not exactly the impression I'm getting._ And then he tried one more time, _Derek, come home. She needs you._

There was a moment of silence that stretched on and Weiss remembers that for a brief moment of hope he thought Derek was about to agree. He heard his friend inhale and then he said: _Just leave her on her side so she doesn't choke._

And then he hung up.

Derek's face looks pained at the recollection, his eyes soft and faraway. "I'm not proud of that," he says. "I was in the middle of surgery and I … I didn't realize how serious it was – not that that's your fault," he adds hurriedly. He's silent for a moment. "She deserved better," Derek adds quietly.

"Yeah, she did." Weiss can't bring himself to sound too angry – even though anger is less than what he felt the night of their phone call. There's recognizable pain in his friend's eyes, and it makes Weiss soften his own tone. "This is … is this really the first time you've talked about it with her?"

Derek nods slowly.

"But they were gone for-"

"I know. She told me. It just – the days blended together, I don't remember where she told me she went or …" _or if she told me anything,_ Weiss thinks he can hear that unspoken conclusion.

"You never asked her … about that night? What happened, why I called you?"

Derek looks distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought she'd bring it up if … I mean I figured she just had a few too many, and then I guess at some point … I probably forgot," he says this last part as if he's embarrassed to admit it and Weiss is actually somewhat impressed he does.

"It was a hell of a lot more than just a _few too many._ "

"I know that know." Derek pauses. "I, uh, I apologized," he says weakly. "When she told me, I mean."

Weiss nods. "Good."

"But," Derek says, "she, uh, she seemed to think I never spoke with you. Never called you back, I mean. That night. I guess that means you never told her about … our call."

Weiss stares out at the water. "No, I didn't."

He'd looked at Addie's pain-filled face and Savvy's set jawline and he couldn't tell them. _Just leave her on her side so she doesn't choke._ Those words echoed in his mind the next day when he put both women in a cab to the airport.

"Thank you," Derek says tentatively. "For not telling her. I think."

"Don't thank me. I'm not sure it was the right call, I just … couldn't tell her. Not that night. I figured you'd fix it, get past it, and it wouldn't matter anymore."

Derek's foot moves in the reeds, the rustling sound interrupting by a bird calling overhead.

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

"I don't know." Derek looks pained. "I should. Shouldn't I? How can we … she can't forgive me for something she doesn't know I did. And besides…" his voice trails off. "I'm not sure it matters now, anyway."

Weiss stares at him for a moment. "Does that mean that-"

"Too much has happened," Derek says quietly.

Too much? More like not enough, Weiss thinks, and he's about to say it when Derek starts speaking again, glancing around as if considering the island as a whole.

"What did they do when they came here? Addie and Savvy, I mean. After."

"I wasn't there," Weiss says, but he can tell Derek has known him long enough to know when he's sidestepping a question. He didn't say _I don't know._

"There's this … healing ritual," Weiss says finally, wincing slightly at how he knows it sounds. "Um. For lack of a better term."

Derek's eyes widen.

"I know how it sounds, but … ask her about it. Look, Addie's been an honorary Beaufort longer than I have," Weiss shrugs. "Maybe it's about time you signed on."

Derek seems to be considering this.

"You were quite the hero last night," Weiss says, changing the subject. "Even Bos was impressed."

"Are you sure you're not confusing _impressed_ with _annoyed_?" Derek smiles a little. "I don't think Bos thinks very much of me at all."

"He's protective," Weiss shrugs. It's the same word Savvy used, earlier.

There's a gnawing feeling in his stomach. Nineteen-year-old Addison, hurt before he knew her … he couldn't have protected her then. But after that … he could have.

Or _should have._

He wants to think it's _would have,_ if he had known, if he had understood how deep the wounds ran and why she needed him.

But unfortunately, whatever word he chooses to talk about protecting her, the result is still the same.

He _didn't._

.-.-.

Savvy watches the ceiling fan rotate lazily above the big white bed in her room at the cottage. The windows are flung open to the mobile island air, that familiar clean, green scent floating into the room at breezy intervals. She left Reeds when Derek returned, noticing a glance passing between him and Addison that she didn't quite understand. And then she was caught up in the island again, in the preparations for tonight, until she needed a break – space.

Which she found in her bedroom at the cottage. Weiss, lying next to her and seeming to pick up on her mood, glances at her.

"What are you thinking about, Sav?"

"Would you forgive me if I slept with your best friend?" She asks it abruptly, surprising herself a bit.

Weiss looks like he's considering the question. "You mean Ty from law school? He did pay his way through college as a Chippendales dancer…"

Savvy grins mischievously. "Ooh, I was thinking about Danny from high school. Ty is a definite upgrade."

"Take it back," Weiss demands, trapping her hands.

"Upgrade from Danny, I mean!" she says quickly. "No one's an upgrade from you, baby …"

They wrestle playfully for a few moments, and she appreciates the distraction, the way his touch has always made her feel.

Then she turns onto her side, serious again. "Really, though. Could you forgive me?"

"Objection … calls for speculation." He brushes a strand of long hair away from her face.

"Weiss."

"Sav. What do you want me to say, baby? Of course I think I would,I _want_ to think I would, but you never know how you're going to react until something happens. Right?"

She shrugs.

"You think Derek knew he was going to steal a boat and Lancelot him and Addie across Three Rivers in a storm?"

"No … I guess not." She pauses. "Anyway, I have zero interest in Ty and you know it." She kisses the side of his neck. "All those muscles … ugh."

He pushes her away from him gently, making a face. "You do realize that's a backhanded compliment, right?"

"It was a real compliment!"

"I'll show you _real compliment_ …"

She's been craving the distraction of his touch all day, needing it, and she now she falls into him gratefully. He always knows just how to make her feel better. It's slow and gentle, like the breezes wafting through the open windows of their room at the cottage, and when she's lying in his arms afterwards and the sun slants across the crewelwork on the blanket she's flooded with a sense of peace.

"I love you."

"I heard," Weiss teases her, and she moves to swat him, but he catches her and kisses it.

"Honey," she starts, "… about Derek…"

"Hey, you know what, babe? Talking about Derek kind of kills my afterglow."

She giggles. "Sorry."

He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly summoning memories from a few minutes ago. "Ah. Much better. Okay, Sav … go on."

"You talked to Derek."

"You did too, didn't you?"

"Yeah." She pauses. "And Addie. I just wish they'd talk to each other."

"Why can't they?"

" _That_ is the question." Savvy pause. "I think … I think she's angry."

"You mean about what happened two years ago?"

"No. I mean because she's still in love with him."

"She told you that?"

"Oh, honey, I've known her for twenty years … she didn't have to tell me."

"What about him?"

"He stole a boat." Savvy pauses. "Beau's boat. He navigated Three Rivers. You saw what he did to the bathroom door."

Weiss looks vaguely offended. "I've driven that boat."

"You're so cute when you're jealous," she teases him, twining a dark curl around one finger.

"I am not _jealous_ ," Weiss says firmly. "I'm just saying."

"That you'd break down a door for me? But I already knew that."

Weiss looks confused.

"Addie didn't," Savvy says softly. "You see? So it's different."

"Oh."

"He showed up. And, Weiss," she adds urgently. "The island welcomed him back."

"Sav…"

"You _know_ that's –"

"-a myth. Savvy, not all the lore is real, and that one is-"

"-true," she says stubbornly. "In all the years you've been coming here, have you _ever_ seen anyone arrive on the island without a Beaufort steering?"

"No," he says uncomfortably. "But … that's because you all believe the … "

" … truth?"

"I was going to say the traveler's curse."

"Same thing," Savvy says firmly. "Weiss … the island welcomed him back. You know what that means. He's supposed to be here."

"So that means he's … still in love with her, too?"

Savvy nods.

"Even after everything? You think they're both still … ?"

"Still. Again. _More,_ I don't know."

"Well if she's still in love with him and he's still in love with her, then what's the problem?"

" _They're_ the problem," Savvy sighs. "Addie and Derek and their thick skulls and their … stubbornness and … they'd better figure it out, Weiss, I swear, or the traveler's curse will be the least of their problems because I'll drown them both myself!"

* * *

 _To be continued. Let's hope Savvy isn't provoked to murder, but if anyone can do it, it's our beloved frustrating Addek. Thank you for reading. I love reviews like Weiss loves dorky lawyer jokes and Bos loves yanking Derek's chain. So please review!_


	16. to a land where joys will never end

**A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to read and check on and review this story. I so appreciate your sticking around during the unexpected mini-island-hiatus.** I really can't believe it's been over a month since I've updated this story. I also can't believe it's been six and a half years since I posted my first story so yeah, believing _might be_ a little challenging for me. This story hasn't been flowing that easily, but I promise I'm not going to give it up. All this is to say I know I've been posting sporadically and in weird bursts and it's hard to predict when I'm going to update next, but I promise it's not on purpose. You can't get rid of me that easily!

Let's start with another flashback before we touch down on the island ...

 *** Patsy, Ms. Scarlet,** and anyone else in or near Irma's path, please stay safe.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 ** _Some Bright Morning_** _  
_ _16\. to a land where joys will never end_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _He lingers outside the door for a moment; it's drizzly late spring, grey and dreary all day. Fumbling for his keys – he's a surgeon, he doesn't actually fumble. Maybe he's just not ready to admit to himself that he's buying time._

 _All he has to do is push open the door to feel the change in the air, and to remind himself why._

 _She's standing in the foyer with a hand resting on the banister; she looks at him with studied disregard as he closes the door behind him and he scans the sum of her quickly._

 _She's wearing an ivory silk robe, her hair piled loosely on her head with rumpled spots he knows comes from massaging her scalp. There's a mug of what smells like hot water with lemon in her hand, but there's an altogether different scent rising from her skin when she inclines her cheek for a kiss._

 _Derek frowns instead of imprinting her with his lips. "You said you were sick."_

" _I was."_

" _You're hungover." He shakes his head. "So I guess you were drunk when you called. Aren't you a little old for this?"_

" _Apparently not." Her voice is small; he's surprised she doesn't rise to the challenge._

 _He's surprised, and he's annoyed._

" _Addison …"_

" _It was a few glasses, I just hadn't – I was just more tired than I realized," she says. "I missed lunch, and the food at the …" She stops talking and just studies him for a moment._

" _I thought you were going to dinner."_

" _I did. Well, after. I thought you were going to come," she adds, "and so did Weiss and Savvy."_

" _I called him."_

" _You didn't call me."_

 _He busies himself taking off his coat. She bought it for him – camel-colored cashmere, light and warm, but there's something about the shoulders he doesn't like. They're a bit different from his own, and she swears they're not pads, but …_

" _Derek," she says, not giving him time to respond, "Derek, if you thought I was sick, why did you ignore my call?"_

" _I didn't ignore your call, Addie, I was working. And I trust you to take care of yourself. You do have a medical degree."_

" _I was feeling sick when I called you," she says defensively._

 _He rubs the bridge of his nose. He's exhausted after a long surgery, and walking directly into the glare of the foyer, the accusatory gaze of his wife, makes their sizeable home seem very small._

 _Crushing, even._

 _And there's something about arguing at the edge of the foyer with a framed wedding portrait judging them from the hall table. He sneaks a quick glance at the frozen faces, cheek to cheek, looking happy, a little nervous, and impossibly, startlingly young. Were they even old enough to drink eleven years ago when they pledged they'd stay together forever?_

 _He's surprised by a sudden feeling of affection for that young couple_

 _He gives her a slight smile, trying to move them past this. "You seem fine now, so you can't have been that … sick."_

" _Not like you care."_

 _With supreme effort, Derek suppresses a roll of his eyes. "What exactly was I supposed to do if I did come home?"_

" _I don't know, express some concern? Bring me a glass of water? Turn me on my side so I don't fucking choke to death?"_

" _Don't be so crass." He frowns._

" _No, of course not. I'll just be silent. That's how you like me, I know."_

" _Do you hear yourself?"_

" _Yes. Do you hear me?"_

" _Addison … you're being ridiculous."_

" _Derek … no conversation has ever improved when a husband said that to his wife."_

 _He actually fights a smile for a moment. It reminds him of when fighting was part of their spark, when wordplay became foreplay and passion spilled over from arguments directly into bed._

" _You didn't choke," he points out._

" _Yeah, well. Weiss was here," she says. There's a passive-aggressive undertone to her voice that irritates him._

" _He doesn't have his own wife to manipulate him?"_

 _He thinks in that moment he's gone too far; Addison looks hurt. But he's annoyed all over again at the implication that he's a bad husband, the idea that Savvy and Weiss were with her when she was drinking and – knowing her, especially lately, moping, and probably complaining about her husband. And calling him, and complaining more when he didn't answer._

 _That's not who they are. It's not who they were, and it's certainly not who they should be._

" _Addie..."_

" _Don't," she says. She doesn't sound angry, just resigned. And he knows what she means._

 _She means this: Don't hurt me and then try to take it back._

 _If he's honest with himself … they both have a tendency to do that._

 _If he's honest with himself._

 _When did that start to be a bad thing?_

 _Sighing, he moves toward the bar and pours himself a drink._

" _Make me one?"_

 _She's standing closer to him now, long fingers playing along the edge of the shelf._

" _Maybe you should take it easy tonight."_

" _Hair of the dog," she says, a look of annoyance crossing her face when he doesn't pour. "Derek."_

" _Fine." He pours her a glass. "But don't expect me to drop everything if you decide you've had too much."_

" _Believe me, honey, I don't expect much from you at all these days."_

 _He swallows scotch instead of rising to the bait. He knows her well enough to know she'll be apologetic in a moment, maybe even clinging._

 _Don't hurt me and then try to take it back._

" _Derek…." Her plaintive tone is just this side of a whine._

" _It's fine," he tells her magnanimously. "I'm going to do some work in my office."_

" _You're drinking."_

" _Unlike you … I can do it moderately."_

" _Derek, can't you just …" Her voice shakes a little as it trails off._

 _He returns to the bar and makes a show of moving the scotch deeper into the liquor cabinet, then leans over to drop a brief kiss on her lips. "Do your liver a favor and stop with one tonight, okay?"_

" _Yeah." She looks down at the glass in her hand. "Okay. Derek, should I wait for – "_

" _No, go to bed if you're tired. I'll be up later."_

 _Don't look back, don't look back, his inner voice chants as he pads down the hall toward the sanctity of his office. Like Lot's wife, he can't resist, and when he glances over his shoulder – just briefly, just for the shortest of moments – he doesn't turn into a pillar of salt. But when he sits down at his desk, he can still see the slumped shoulders of his wife, staring into the bottom of her tumbler like it holds an answer._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

"Addison."

She's wrapped in a warm cocoon of sleep.

"Addie."

 _Why does he keep saying my name?_

Slumber clings to her, making her eyelids heavy as she tries to focus.

Derek's hand is on her arm, shaking lightly; he's trying to rouse her. She must have slept through the alarm.

The light slicing through their bedroom is strange though, pale and pink-flushed and beachy like they're somewhere else.

"Addison. Wake up."

… maybe because they _are_ somewhere else.

With no small effort, she drags her eyes open, taking in her surroundings: the ceiling fan above the bed, the late-afternoon sun peering through the curtains, the salty-marshy scent of the coast.

Obviously, she's not in her bedroom, and for the time – it's probably only seconds – that it takes her to orient herself, she hangs onto the only thing in the room she recognizes: her husband's hand.

His grip is warm and strong. Reassuringly.

And then it all rushes back to her. The previous night – his anger, their raised voices, slamming the bathroom door to shower. Her shock when she discovered what was happening to her body. The blur of room and path and beach and boat, dark stormy ocean skidding up the sides of the runaround. Waking up in another unfamiliar bed in a mainland hospital.

Making their slow, steady way home on a calm sea.

His tender focus on her recovery. But then the gentlest of rebuffs. And then, finally … sleep.

"You slept for a long time," Derek says, scanning her face. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm … okay."

"Better?"

That's a difficult question, but she nods, assuming it's the answer he's seeking.

He pulls a little bit on the hand he's holding. "We should probably start getting ready …."

"Right."

She lets him help her sit up and pull her to her feet.

"Addie …"

"Let's just get ready so we can go say goodbye to Catherine," she says, and closes the newly repaired bathroom door behind with her a soft click, trying not to shudder when she thinks about the tile under her feet.

.-.-.

"What's wrong with this suit?" He studies his reflection.

"It's a suit, first of all. And it's black."

"It's a funeral," he reminds her reflection next to his in the mirror.

"Derek, it's not Manhattan."

"I thought black was _only_ for funerals in the south."

"I don't know." Addison is holding a flimsy-looking sundress. "I just know that _here_ they don't wear black."

 _Here._ The island, with its own set of rules.

"You could have told me not to wear black before I packed." He keeps his tone mild, but she could have told him a lot of things to prepare him for the island.

A lot more than what she did tell him … which was basically nothing.

"You didn't exactly want to talk to me, Derek."

He doesn't push it.

"Just … you'll be fine without the jacket. And the tie."

She frowns, and pulls him toward her by the lapels, then starts untying his tie. The feeling of her fingers on his collarbone is so familiar. She always did one last once-over when they got ready together. Straightening his tie, adjusting his collar, checking his cufflinks. He used to feel patronized, even insulted, back when their different backgrounds stood out in sharp contrast, but eventually came to realize she just liked touching him … and accepted the adjustments for the affectionate gesture she intended.

"What?" She's noticed he's looking at her, apparently.

"Nothing." He spreads his hand, having been divested of his jacket and tie. "You want me to roll up my sleeves too?"

She smiles a little. "You probably should. Now that everyone knows what a dab hand you are on the water, you might be called on to do some boat work."

"I can handle that."

"After last night, I believe it." She glances down at her own outfit.

"Does this look okay?" Her expression is doubtful.

Dutifully, he scans her, though he's never known her to look anything other than perfect when she prepares a face for the public.

She's wearing a long, loose sundress that swirls around her legs, flowing like water. Her hair is pinned up again – after seeing what the boat did to it, he can't blame her. She's wearing minimal makeup, which means that he can see the tiredness in her eyes but he can also see _her_ , and that's only ever going to get one response from him.

"It looks perfect," he says, and offers her his arm.

.-.-.

He's never seen a funeral quiet like this one.

Then again, he's never seen anything quite like the island, full stop, so there's no reason to be surprised. The assorted Beauforts gather up island at Camden dock, not a scrap of black clothing among them; they look rather like a flock of brightly colored birds, the low hanging sun reflecting off every golden head.

Babies and smaller toddlers are handed into the boat; the children scramble up the ladder like monkeys and climbs each step after Addison.

"Careful," he murmurs.

"It's a ladder," she hisses back, but she doesn't protest too much when he swings into the boat first and then lifts her down.

He could swear he catches an approving glance from Beau, who's supervising his smaller children beside the railing a few feet away.

"Derek … I'm not an invalid."

"I know that." He guides her toward the bow; she's quiet – everyone's quiet; really, it's the quietest he's seen the Beauforts since he first stepped onto the island. The boat is loosed on the water, sea spray sprinkling upturned faces and hands. The sun is a heavy orange globe now, painting pinkish-purple smears across the horizon. Addison's fair skin is golden in the eerily beautiful light, and she turns glowing eyes on him … still silent.

No one told the crowd to be silent; they just … are, and so he is too.

And then the sun sinks below the horizon, the tip of the bright globe disappearing into the water, and seemingly without plan, the boat bursts into song.

Derek freezes for a moment, surprised – something else Addison didn't prepare him for? – but she looks a bit surprised too.

 _Some bright morning, when this life is over, I'll fly away_

When he turns to Addison he sees gooseflesh rising on her skin; he's getting the chills, too, and the sun has gone down.

 _When the shadows of this have gone, I'll fly away._

He has no jacket to offer her, so he just wraps an arm around her shoulders instead; she hesitates a little bit, and then leans against him.

 _Like a bird, from these prison walls I'll fly._

It's an old hymn and a lovely one and he didn't realize he knew it, but he finds that he does.

 _Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away_

At the same time, he is somehow both aware and unaware that the ashes of Savvy's mother are being scattered in the churning water as the chorus of relatives continues to sing.

 _To a land where joys will never end, I'll fly away._

The singing tapers off gradually, the last notes floating off on the cool salty breeze. Just like that, the ambience softens, relatives milling about leaning on railings, sitting down, a few of the smaller children chasing each other down the deck.

Addison disappears below deck to find a restroom – after scolding him sharply for offering to go with her – and he's standing alone looking out at the water when he feels footsteps approaching.

Savvy tucks an arm through his. "It means a lot that you're here. To all of us," she adds.

"Of course, Sav." He pats her hand where it rests in the crook of his elbow. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm holding up." She pauses. "That was Mama's favorite hymn."

"It was beautiful. Everyone singing together like that."

"It just kind of happened," Savvy shrugs.

Derek's eyes widen. "It wasn't planned? But you were all in sync. How did you do that without a plan?"

Savvy looks out at the water. "Sometimes if you just listen, you know what to do."

Derek considers her words; before he can respond, she's swallowed back into the crowd and Derek sees that Beau is atypically alone – well, unaccompanied by adults. His daughter is seated on his shoulders, slumping tiredly and resting her cheek against the top of her father's head. On a man who didn't hate him … it would be adorable.

Steeling himself, he approaches.

"Looks like you've got a stowaway," Derek says quietly, inclining his head toward the little girl.

A smile quirks the corner of the other man's lips. "She still awake up there? Her mama will have my head if she pitches overboard."

"She's still awake." Derek looks up and gives her a little wave. "Hi, Avery."

"Hi, Mister Derek," she says sleepily.

"Still awake," he confirms to Beau.

"Good."

He's not sure what to say next. Offer condolences? He's not certain the funeral is over. And he offered condolences upon his arrival. This is the kind of thing Addison would know and could advise him, if she were here. He spotted her moments ago talking to Savvy's cousin Augie, so he knows she's not still below deck, at least.

He glances at Beau. "I'm sorry about your aunt."

"Thanks." Beau is holding Avery's little feet. "Auntie Kate was special. She always knew the right thing to do."

"I know. I mean, I didn't know her, not really," Derek admits. "I met her a few times, but I know how much she meant to Addison." He pauses. "That, uh, you all do," he adds.

"It's mutual," Beau says shortly.

Derek feels his time with Beau may be running out, and not just because Avery's curly blonde head is slumping further toward sleep.

"I owe you an apology," he blurts.

"An apology for what?"

"Taking your boat," Derek says, confused.

"Oh, that." Beau shifts his daughter a bit on his shoulders. "Exigent circumstances, wouldn't you say?"

Derek nods.

"No need to apologize to me." Beau studies Derek's face for a moment. "Maybe to someone else, but not to me."

"Okay. Well, thank you." Derek pauses, then turns back. "She handles beautifully," he says.

A smile tugs at the corner of Beau's mouth. "Doesn't she? It takes the right hand but she'll purr like a kitten."

.-.-.

She's resting her elbows on the rail and her chin in her hand, salty moisture on her cheeks.

"Why don't you sit down?" Derek leans against the railing next to her.

"I'm fine here," she says.

"I think you should take it easy," Derek tells her quietly.

"I am." She pulls away from him, which is a mistake because it makes her flinch.

"Addie..."

"Derek, I'm fine. It was just a twinge. Please don't fuss."

He rests a hand on her back. "Then take it easy."

"Fine." She pauses. "Honey, would you just … mingle," she tells him, a little exasperated.

"Did you just – " He stops.

"Did I just what?" She's confused.

"Nothing. I'll get you some water."

"You don't have to do that."

Savvy walks up to her as Derek retreats.

"How are you feeling?" Savvy rests a hand on her arm, her blue eyes concerned.

Guilt floods her. Savvy lost her mother. Savvy called her and Addison never called back. And now Addison's minor medical issue, overblown by Derek's overreaction, is interfering with Savvy's opportunity to grieve.

After all Savvy and her family have done for her.

For a moment Addison just breathes, feeling small and low. _Just when you think you're about as bad a person as you can be…_

"Add … talk to me."

"I'm fine, Savvy, this isn't … I'm thinking of _you._ How are _you_ doing?"

"I'm okay, honey. I really am," Savvy repeats.

Addison squeezes her hand.

"Mama loved you," Savvy says, tugging on their interlocking hands until she's holding Addison tightly. "I think she always wanted a bigger family and you were like another daughter to her."

"I loved her too." Addison wipes tears from her eyes when they separate, and for a few moments they watch the water in silence. She's gripping the railing when Savvy is pulled away by a relative.

For just a moment, she stands alone, and then she senses Derek approaching.

She doesn't turn around and he doesn't announce himself, but he does rest a hand on her back – muscle memory maybe, and as the boat slows with a jolt his arm tightens to steady her.

"I don't have my sea legs." She laughs a little and then touches her stomach.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." She takes a deep breath.

"Addie…"

The boat jolts again; she sways and he pulls her against him. "I've got you," he says quietly.

Finally feeling steady, she turns her face into his neck – he smells the same as always, warm and woodsy, comforting, and he holds onto her. If she closes her eyes she can forget every painful moment that led up to this one. All she has to do is squeeze them shut.

She's not sure if her next words are spoken out loud at all or if it's just the shape of them, her lips against his skin. "Don't let go," she whispers.

He's still holding onto her when the first fireworks light up the darkened sky.

.-.-.

Weiss doesn't hover.

He _wants_ to hover, he may be genetically programmed to hover, but he's also been well trained by Savvy and honed his own instincts over the years: when to hold her and when to leave her alone, when to brush by her side with a glass of water and when to pour out a shot of white lightning and watch her throw it back.

It's chilly at the hearth, dark now, the various Beauforts having scattered to dig up warmer clothes once the boat docked, before they reconvened outside to talk, drink, and share memories of Catherine.

Much as they did on the boat at sunset.

Much as they've done each night since they arrived.

The island is like that, in Weiss's experience, somehow ruled by ritual and yet utterly uncompartmentalized. Time is loose here; it flows. He sees it in the faces of Savvy's family. He always has.

He took Savvy to Vienna once, when they'd only been married a year or so, showed her the site of his grandparents' store, the cafes they still remembered, the street where they'd lived until they didn't. Savvy was entranced, and he couldn't blame her; his wife's family traced itself not just back to the Revolution but back across the ocean to England and France. She asked Weiss a lot of questions about his family when they first got together, wanting to know, wanting to understand, and confused at the beginning when he couldn't answer. He didn't have intricately plotted, hand drawn family trees like the Beauforts and the Seviers.

 _Those weren't the kinds of records they kept,_ he told Savvy once, grimly, and she squeezed his hand tightly.

In Vienna those bright autumn days, Weiss could see her putting the pieces together, trying to draw a history for him. On a picturesque street she caught his arm excitedly. _This is like your island,_ she said. Weiss was touched by her enthusiasm but he shook his head. _Not exactly. We stopped being welcome here,_ he reminded her. Savvy chewed her bottom lip in response, her eyes troubled. _You'll always be welcome on the island,_ she told him. _I promise._ And she wrapped her arms around his waist, hanging on tightly.

Savvy has kept all her promises.

It's about the vows, after all.

Weiss glances at Savvy, who's deep in conversation with Beau, Bos, and Augie, their four blond heads together – Beau's and Bos's ducked downward to reach the shorter women. _The Four Beausketeers._ He remembering digging his fist against his mouth to keep from chuckling when she told him about their nickname. _Promise you won't laugh, Weiss, I'll only tell you if you promise not to laugh._

He kept the promise … with some effort.

Savvy is … standing, and outwardly okay. She's good at that, the most welcoming hostess he knows. There's nothing she can't smooth over, he thinks admiringly, remembering countless examples small and large of her social graces.

Not just social. Personal. The island to him has always felt like an extension of Savvy, those lucky enough to be welcomed to it returning again and again to feel its warm and particular embrace.

He sees Addison approach the Beausketeers; they expand to welcome her into the circle. Weiss studies his wife for a moment; she smiles softly at him when she catches him looking, but her eyes are shadowed.

She's exhausted, and he can't blame her. Discreetly, he checks the time.

He should get Savvy back to the cottage.

"I should get Addie back to Reeds," a voice says next to him, and he turns to see Derek, not having heard him approach.

They greet each other, and then Derek glances at him. "It's been a long day for her. She wants to be there for Savvy, but she's exhausted."

"Sav too." Weiss looks at the two women. The others move on to talk to gathered relatives; Addie and Savvy remain deep in conversation. He doesn't have to glance at Derek to know he's watching them too.

How many times had they stood side by side, watching their wives together? How many husbandly thoughts had they shared? Admittedly, he was surprised to hear Derek say _I should get her back to Reeds._ Concern. Responsibility. Ownership? Obligation? His mind throws word after word – _hit the off switch_ , that's what Sav would tease him when he'd start shooting out wordy suggestions for revision.

"I guess we should …" Weiss glances toward the women.

 _We._

Are they a team now? Again?

"Yeah." Derek nods. "I guess we should."

.-.-.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Why aren't _you_ sleeping?" Savvy challenges as she picks her way down the sand an hour after the last of the group finally dispersed, a little annoyed that her brother's expression suggests he just _knows_ she left a sleeping Weiss alone without warning him.

She props her hands on her hips when she reaches the water's edge.

Bos doesn't answer, just looks out at the darkened horizon. He's holding something in his hand, and he shows it to her.

"Oh, Bos…"

"It's cold out here tonight." He puts the object he was holding back in his pocket.

"Yeah, I know." Savvy pulls her sweater closer.

"And it's late. You should be sleeping."

"Okay, big brother, you're not sleeping either. You want me to tell Case?"

"Don't you dare." He wraps an arm around her when she gets to his side, and Savvy leans against him. It's too dark to make out much behind them other than the shadows of the cottage from which they'd both emerged, the porch swing still moving slightly on the wind.

The sand is cold under her feet, she feels the chill in the spaces her sandals don't cover.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Mama," Savvy says.

"More specifically?"

Savvy smiles a little. "That she'd slap _both_ Shepherds if she were here."

Bos laughs.

"You don't think she'd have some other things to do?"

"Nah." Savvy brushes some moisture from her eyes. "You and I are married off, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are."

"You know what a matchmaker she was. And she loved Addie. She'd be mad as a cat if she knew what was going on with those two."

Bos toes some sand with his bare feet, marking a half circle as they watch they water.

"I just wish they would …" Savvy stops, shaking her head.

"Don't you dare waste a wish on those two," Bos warns her. "Not when you – " He stops talking.

"I'm _going_ to take care of it," Savvy says, her lips trembling. "When we get back to New York. Addie's going to operate on me."

Bos is quiet for a moment as they track a circle in the sand. "What does Weiss think?"

"I don't care what he thinks."

"Yeah, you do." Bos frowns.

"You're my brother. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side, sugar, you know that." He kisses the top of her head. "I just think happen to think your husband is, too."

"You didn't always," Savvy points out.

"Maybe not. But he proved himself, didn't he?"

"Yeah, sis. He did."

Cool air floats off the water, moving her hair, and Savvy shivers a little.

"It's cold." Bos looks at her, moonlight revealing concern in his familiar blue eyes. "How 'bout we head back inside?"

"Not yet. And anyway, I still need to …" Her voice trails off, and she looks meaningfully at her brother.

It only takes an instant. "Tonight? You're going tonight?"

Savvy nods.

"But it's only …." His voice trails off.

"You know it's not up to me when we do it, Bos."

"I know." Her brother pauses, looking out at the water, then back to Savvy.

"What?"

"Nothing, Sav," Bos says, then seems to think better of it. "Just if you're going tonight, does that mean that he's –"

"I don't know." Savvy's gaze tracks a path in the water. " _That's_ not up to me either."

.-.-.

Derek blinks awake slowly.

He's confused.

He _was_ asleep, he knows this – but after years of waking up in the flash of milliseconds, ready to work, he seems not to be able to do it here. Here, he wakes slow and sticky like island sun, and it takes him long moments to figure out what's going on.

There's a light in the room. No, a little ball of light moving shakily, and there's sound, and – automatically, he reaches next to him, expecting to brush warm skin, and his fingers close on air.

"Addison?"

The ball of light freezes, and then flicks upward to illuminate a hank of red hair. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispers.

"Are you all right?" He props himself up on his elbows. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she says quickly, still in that hissing low voice as if he's not fully awake. "Everything's fine, Derek. Go back to sleep."

Not likely. He sits up fully and slaps on the bedside light. They both squint as their eyes adjust; he can see that she's dressed, the waterproof shell of the trail coat he bought her wrapped around her shoulders, her hair is piled loosely on her head.

As soon as he grows accustomed to the light he sees something like guilt flickering in her eyes.

This, clearly, is no middle-of-the-night search for water or a blanket or even a bout of insomnia. She's dressed to go somewhere.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing," she says again.

"Addison." He reaches for his watch on the bedside table. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"I know. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, you did. What are you doing?" Derek repeats his question, with a little less patience this time.

"Getting … ready," she says slowly.

"In the middle of the night." He shakes his head. "Ready for what?"

She doesn't answer.

"Addison?"

"This … thing," she says finally. "With Savvy."

He blinks. He's used to Addie and Savvy having their own … things: language, references, traditions. He and Weiss used to joke about it.

It's less funny right now.

"And you were planning to leave and go do this … _thing_ … without telling me? I'd wake up, and you'd be gone?"

There's a slight tremor in his voice, probably from being wakened mid-slumber. He keeps his eyes closed a bit longer than a blink, washing clean the flickering image of Addison from last night, crouched shivering in the claw-footed tub.

"I was going to leave a note," she says defensively.

"Addie." He's half confused, half annoyed, and all tired. "What could be so urgent that you have to …."

Suddenly, as if someone is whispering in his ear, he remembers Weiss's words from the day before, about Addison's last trip to the island.

 _There's this … healing ritual. I know how it sounds, but … ask her about it._

He hasn't asked her about it. Not yet. He wonders if it's too late now.

"Addie."

She looks at him.

And he tries.

"Is this, um…." He pauses, not sure how to express it. "When you came to the island two years ago," he says tentatively, seeing her shoulders tense, "you, um…"

That's the best he can do, but it seems to be enough.

Because she nods.

"Savvy thinks I need it again," Addison says, as if _it_ is something perfectly normal and not yet another bizarre island tradition shrouded in mystery.

In only a few days the island has surprised him over and over again, for various reasons and in various ways.

"Okay." He takes it in. "Can't you do it in the morning or …?"

"No. It has to be at night." She looks up at him. "It's kind of … a secret, and it has to be dark."

"But it's late," he says, unnecessarily, "and it's cold, Addie, and you were released from the hospital today."

"I know all that. Savvy will be there, she wouldn't let – look, Derek, she needs it too. And Augie, she's going."

"Going _where_?"

Her lips part, but then she closes them again. "I can't tell you."

"Addison." He presses the heel of his hand into his forehead and then scans her outfit again. "It's outside? You're going to be outside?" He looks uncertainly toward the curtained window. The temperature dropped with the sun last night, and it hasn't risen.

"Derek, I just – "

And then a quick flash illuminates the room, like lightening. And then it's gone.

She looks from the doorway back to him.

"That'll be Savvy and …" She pauses.

"Addie, you're really not going to tell me where you're going?"

"I can't," she repeats. She looks from the door at Reeds to Derek, and back again. "I'm sorry, Derek, I can't tell you."

"Addison …"

"But … maybe I can show you," she offers, her voice soft, hand resting on the doorknob. She extends her other hand to him. "If you want," she adds. "If you want, I can show you."

His legs swing out of bed before he can tell them not to. He's wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and it's chilly – the warmth of sleep has dissipated. Addison's lips quirk; she tosses a coat his way and pulls open the door.

Savvy's standing there holding a flashlight and next to her is another blond in a hooded raincoat – it's Savvy's cousin Augie, the one who's sick, Derek remembers with a pang.

Savvy looks from Addison to Derek and then her face changes.

"What's _he_ doing?" Augie asks bluntly.

"He … woke up," Addison says.

"Derek, I'm sorry we woke you." Savvy's expression is hard to read, but her voice is soft.

Augie looks at the coat in Derek's arms. "So let's get moving and he can go back to sleep," she says shortly.

"He wants to see," Addison says softly. "He wants to know."

"Just because he _wants_ something doesn't mean he's going to get it," Augie says waspishly. "Maybe back home, but not here. Here … the rules are different."

"I know that," Addison says quickly. "And Derek ... he knows it too, or at least he's getting there."

Neither blonde speaks.

"Sav." Addison turns to her friend. "He steered us from the mainland. Yesterday. He got us back here."

Savvy glances at her cousin, then back to Addison. "I know."

"The island welcomed him back. You _know_ what that means. You know that means that – "

"I know." Savvy looks from Derek to Addison to Augie and back again. "Aug … she's right."

"Yeah?" Augie raises her eyebrows.

Savvy nods and there's an air of finality to it. "Yeah."

"Okay, then, city boy." Augie pockets her penlight and flashes Derek a rather disconcerting smile. "Let's see what you've got."

* * *

 ** _To be continued (always).  
Okay guys, I'm going to be really honest here_: my confidence in this story is kind of shaken. It's been a long time since I've updated, I'm not sure if interest has waned, and I'm concerned it's not flowing the way I predicted (aka LIFE). So throw me a bone and let me know how you felt about the chapter and improve my neurotic day, pretty please?**

 **See you next time on the island … hopefully not too long from now.**


	17. forget my sins upon the wind

**A/N: _Welcome back. I can't believe how long it's been since the last trip to the island. I'm so grateful to all of you who've reviewed and PMd and let me know you're anxious for an update and that you're still enjoying this story. This chapter took a long time for a whole mess of reasons, not just busy RL but also the complicated workings of this universe. The result is very long. We'll start with a flashback before we rejoin the foursome who, when we last left the island, were about to leave Reeds for ... somewhere. Thank you for going on this journey with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter._**

* * *

 _And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send_ _him_ _away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness: And the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not inhabited: and he shall let go the goat in the wilderness._

-Leviticus 16:21-22

 **.-.-.**

 ** _Some Bright Morning_** _  
_ _17\. forget my sins upon the wind_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _At first she just watches him through the glass._

 _She's keeping time with one tapping toe on the linoleum floor that smells of bleach and pine-scented cleanser, ignoring the blurs of blue and green and pink scrubs passing behind her._

 _His office door is closed, but he hasn't drawn the internal blinds, so she has an excellent view of her husband: turned three-quarters away from her with every pattern in his work-rumpled hair traceable to some combination of scrub caps, finger-combing, and shoving a frustrated hand through it._

 _He's concentrating. Deeply, as only Derek can. He doesn't notice her presence; clearly, he's consumed by whatever he's reviewing – there are scans on the lightboard, multiple files open in front of him, and a large textbook split open in the middle._

 _To be the recipient of so much focus, so much directed knowledge, and passion, and care … there's nothing like it. His patients are lucky._

 _She folds her arms – it's chilly in the hallway – and watches as he frowns, moving a pen from thumb to two fingers and back again, the baton-style fiddling he's done since medical school. He's paying attention, but his fingers always need to move._

 _For another moment it's just his hand she's studying, watching the movement of the pen, watching the intricate patterns his fingers are painting. She feels her own fingers clench – maybe seeking heat from her warmer palm – and finally she lifts the fist she's made and raps lightly on the glass._

 _He glances up then and sees her; there's a flicker of something in his eyes – surprise? Recognition? – and she sees the hand holding the pen gesture for her to come in. His fingers barely move, but they don't need much to communicate, not after all these years._

 _She pushes open the door. It's slightly warmer inside his office. His lab coat hangs neatly on the tree by the window; he's in shirtsleeves and a deep blue sweater she bought for him a few years ago. It's mostly cashmere; it would feel soft if she were to touch it._

" _Hey," she says, for lack of anything better. She finds herself leaning back against the door._

" _Hey." He frowns slightly. "I haven't seen you all day," he observes._

 _Actually, it's been closer to three days. Two and a half. The days blend together, though … that's all it is._

 _Her own last three days have been a whirlwind of sensation and sound, drowning in darkness and waking up to a surprise each time: in the hospital after they pumped her stomach, Savvy crying above her, unsure what decade it was; on the plane, jolted by the meeting of wheels and runway, unable to remember where they'd journeyed; in the wide pine bed in the room at Reeds, Savvy next to her, confused about why they were sharing a bed, why it smelled like salt water and leaves, why she couldn't recall the nightmare that was still clinging to her like her sweat-dampened nightclothes._

" _Yeah." She glances at him._

 _Talk to him, Addie. Just talk to him. That was Savvy's rallying cry, it was the last thing she said in the cab they shared from JFK earlier that day. She squeezed both of Addison's hands in hers, so she could feel the cold metal of Addison's rings and Addison hers, and implored her. Talk to him. Tell him what happened. He needs to know._

 _She just smiled and kissed Savvy's cheek goodbye as they parted ways, Addison alighting first at her office so Savvy could ride to her own in midtown._

 _Just talk to him._

 _It's easy for Savvy to say that, though. Savvy is married to Weiss, who already knows everything. There's nothing bubbling below the surface to leap out without warning. Weiss cares, he shows up, he's there … as he was this time, every time, even as they piled into a cab to the airport. He hugged her before she climbed into the cracked leather seats and for a moment in his arms she closed her eyes and felt the material of his trench coat against her cheek and pretended she'd told Derek after all._

 _But she didn't._

 _And when she was back on Manhattan soil she showered and changed and fixed her hair and her makeup and met with her residents and reviewed her charts and piled normal on normal on normal. Like this is her life, here, and not the last two days … the tiny plane, the feel of the little boat underneath them, seeing Savvy's brother again, his aging face reminding her how many years had passed, and then all her memories sinking into one swirling, bubbling canyon. Dropping below the surface._

 _Floating away._

 _She had a plan. She was going to tell Derek she and Savvy took a girls' trip, and Weiss was going to do the same, at her desperate pleading, if Derek called him._

 _As it turned out, neither of them needed it. Perhaps he thought she was sulking … or trying to manipulate him, he'd certainly accused her enough of that one. One email came through from him, forwarded from one of his sisters asking them to do something. Can't make it, he'd written at the top, so let Kath know if you want to go. Half of her wanted to ignore it – but logistics were their language, or what's left of it, so she responded to Derek with a brief okay, thanks, and that was that. Proof of life. Sufficiently so, apparently._

" _Addison … is something wrong?"_

 _He looks at her for a moment, just quickly scanning her face, and she feels herself holding her breath, wondering if he'll notice anything._

 _She has no idea what it would be, though. The little brush of sunburn on her shoulders is hidden by her blouse and lab coat. She's showered and changed, no hint of the river, the one that carried her back to the mainland that morning, can cling. The dark circles under her eyes from losing a night of sleep are neatly covered with makeup._

" _I'm fine," she says smoothly. It's hard to miss the relief in his eyes, which she can't help interpreting less as relief that she's okay … and more as relief that he won't have to ask further questions._

" _Good." He smiles briefly at her._

 _This is who we are, she tells herself. This is who I am, and this is my marriage. This … is what it's actually about._

" _You look busy," she says when the silence presses too hard._

" _I am." He glances down at the open folders in front of him. "Olfactory groove meningioma. Patient was rejected by West."_

" _Ah." She looks over at the lightboard. "Lucky he found you, then."_

" _Right. Well, we'll see how lucky he feels in about …" Derek glances at the clock on the wall. "…eighteen hours. Listen, Addie, I'm probably not-"_

 _-going to come home tonight. She doesn't hear the end of the sentence but she can feel it. It sounds like pounding water, like the ring, ring, ringing of a phone someone doesn't answer, like the thud and crunch of a fall._

" _Okay." She forces her tone to be bright. "I have a few more things to take care of and then I'll probably…" She gestures vaguely, toward the outside world._

" _That sounds like a good idea. It's getting late."_

 _She nods weakly, leaning back against the door. Actually, she hasn't been at work very long at all – she woke up in a different world this morning – but he won't know that. Can't know it. She finds her attention caught by the back of the frame on his desk. She can't see it, can only see the black velvet back running into the sterling edge, but she knows it's a picture of her. She knows her frozen framed face is grinning broadly, holding the plaque that had just been thrust into her hands. Derek was so proud of her that night: I knew it, he marveled into her ear, brushing against her neck left bare by a careful updo, I knew you could do it, Addie._

 _He must still care, if he wants to look at her while he works … right?_

" _Addie."_

" _Hm?" She glances up at him, her reverie broken._

" _Did you need something else?" His tone is neutral, even friendly, but her cheeks burn underneath the comforting shield of her makeup._

" _Oh. No," she says, trying to return his smile, one hand resting on the door he's clearly waiting for her to open … and then close behind her. "I don't need anything."_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

Derek has only a moment to throw a fleece over the t-shirt he wore to bed and grab his waterproof rain shell once Augie somewhat consents to his joining the women's journey; the two blondes are already halfway out the door of their room by the time he toes into his wellies and jogs down the path where Addison is hanging back, waiting for him.

Now he has to squint to make out Savvy and Augie ahead of them, arm in arm, a ball of light bouncing along the scrubby, sandy grass.

It's dark. Incredibly dark … deeply, penetratingly dark in a way Manhattan could never be and even Seattle has never quite touched – but he's still pretty sure, based on the last few days of navigating this side of the island, that they're heading toward the dock.

"Addie. _Addison_ ," he hisses when she doesn't respond. "You're still not going to tell me where we're going?"

"I can't," she says, sounding apologetic. But she tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow, surprising him. "No one told me either, Derek, when … look, just … come with us."

"I am coming with you," he reminds her, picking carefully over some loose twigs and then moving her slightly to prevent the same tripping hazard. "I'm right here."

"Yeah, you are," she says, then pauses. "Just … stay close."

She doesn't have to warn him twice; it's dark, even with the little globe of light bouncing from Augie's flashlight, and his boots are sliding over still damp grounds as he keeps pace with the women ahead.

"Addie … can we at least slow down?"

"We have to keep up," she insists, tugging on his arm.

Overnight, the breeze blanketing the island has turned from cool to cold, and he's glad for the extra protective layers. Addison shivers slightly next to him.

"Are you warm enough?" He nudges her shoulder with his.

"I'm fine."

"You just got out of the hospital," he reminds her.

"Yes, Derek … I'm aware." She shakes her head at him, but she sounds more affectionate than annoyed.

"Can you two lovebirds keep it down, please?" Augie throws an annoyed look over her shoulder, illuminated on her heart-shaped face – so much like her cousin's – by the flashlight beam she brings with it.

Derek and Addison squint in tandem into the bright light.

"Keep up," Augie adds, turning back around as she continues to lead the group down to the dock, their destination obvious now.

"Okay," Derek murmurs, leaning closer to Addison so he can keep his voice down and prevent them from getting yelled at for talking again. He brushes some low-hanging flora away from them, remembering the way the entire island seemed draped in verdant curtains when they first arrived.

"Addie, this … thing … is something you do _on_ the dock, right? Not …"

She doesn't answer either way, and four pairs of rubber boots track to the foot of the old wooden dock. There's a squeaking sound, a pull at the floating part; the water smells pungent as they get close.

And then he hears the click and slap of the equipment bench.

Derek slides an arm under her elbow as she steps onto the wide-planked wooden dock, taking advantage of their closeness to ask her again. "We're not actually going to –"

"Okay, life jackets for everyone," Augie announces. "What?" She shines her flashlight toward Derek, who has to close his eyes against the beam, her tone defensive.

"Would you put that down, Aug? You're not a cop."

Derek opens his eyes at Savvy's words to see her moving Augie's flashlight-bearing arm down.

"Savvy," Derek says, hoping to reason with her, turning toward the sound of her voice now that the flashlight is aimed straight to the dock, "we're not really going out on the water … are we?"

Savvy is silent, the only sounds around them the black water lapping the dock with an admittedly peaceful rhythm – nothing like the previous night, the terrifyingly diagonal sheets of rain, gale-force gusts, the wind screaming through the trees – and the chirping, croaking, and squeaking he's come to associate with the island.

As isolated as the island has seemed to him at various times, in various ways, he's never doubted the number or the diversity of the small creatures sharing space here with Savvy's family.

"Derek," Addison says softly.

"Leave him here," Augie suggests in a casual tone, kneeling on the dock.

"I'm not leaving him here," Addison says firmly.

"Augie," Savvy cuts in. "Just get in the boat, honey, and stop picking on Derek."

He sees Savvy's flashlight skim over a glowing mahogany craft; it's an antique, he can tell immediately, but it looks like it's been lovingly restored. Two empty rows of seats beckon them. It's a four-seater.

"Whose boat is this?" Derek gestures toward it.

"Mine," Augie says, "mine and my brother's, and our daddy's before that, but Shug's the one who restored it."

Derek feels his heart thumping with sense memory of the night before, Addison's body limp and heavy in his arms as he struggled through the rain to get them situated in the boat. He doesn't say anything, but he feels Addison move a little closer to him.

"Calmer out there than my toddler's bath," Augie says, gesturing toward the admittedly still water.

She's not wrong. The water appears so different from his experience last night that it might as well be a different island. There's no driving rain – not even a light sprinkle – and the movement around the base of the boat is rhythmic, almost gentle.

Augie turns back to the boat, taking the light with her, and Derek takes advantage of the darkness.

"Addie, are you sure …" He whispers the words, not wanting to argue with Savvy's cousin – or Savvy for that matter.

"Derek." Addison puts a hand up to his face, a sure one despite the darkness. "I need to do this," she murmurs, "and … you came this far, so…."

There's nothing else to say. They buckle into a life jacket apiece; Derek is pretty sure he sees Augie roll her eyes when he tightens the straps across Addison's chest.

Savvy climbs in first.

Derek's hand finds Addison's where it's resting on the side of her PFD and he squeezes her fingers with his. Just once, just one final _are we really doing this_ and when she squeezes back he has his answer.

He helps Addison into the boat first, trying not to wince when he thinks of the way the rain sliced in front of his eyes last night as he tried desperately to keep her awake on their journey across Three Rivers.

Savvy holds the flashlight aimed at the dock while Augie's hands move, fast and sure, unraveling the rope from the cleat – it's an old-fashioned looking one, but like most things on the island in his brief experience, it appears both well-worn and well made. Augie releases the last of the neat figure eight she probably knotted herself; she's clearly as experienced as Savvy on the water, and she makes short work of the rope.

Loose, untethered, the coiled rope hits wood; at the same time, the round beam of the flashlight disappears.

"We've got lights on the boat," Augie assures Derek, perhaps hearing his indrawn breath, "but we're not going to go waking up the whole island. We'll wait 'til we've made some headway."

"But how are you going to –"

"I know it by heart," Augie says simply.

And so it's still dark, but Derek has the feeling that _dark_ isn't enough of a word to describe the inky velvet hanging over them.

Augie turns over the engine, whistling softly at the sound. He hears the rustling as she turns back to the bench behind her where he and Addison sit side by side.

"Hey, city boy … last chance to call quits." Augie directs her words toward Derek.

"I'm not quitting," he replies firmly as the boat starts a slow half-circle away from the dock, considering and then thinking better of adding, _sorry to disappoint you._ It's too dark to see Augie's expression but he feels Addison let out a breath next to him in response.

.-.-.

She's sitting still.

So still, but she's the only still thing: the river is moving, and the air above them too, with the whistle that makes her feel like she's flying. When she closes her eyes, it's so dark that the darkness itself is penetrating her lids.

There's no darkness like island darkness. No comparison in any of the urban, suburban or even exurban places she's lived. She spent many summers on Martha's Vineyard growing up, but while it might have been exclusive, it was still … _inhabited_. That's what Addison asked Savvy the first time, a little breathlessly: _is it inhabited?_ And Savvy grinned and said … _kind of. Well … it's complicated._

Their first night on the island so many years ago was the darkest she can recall. Rather than a dark screen blocking out her vision, it was as if some central point above them was pouring thick black down into every crevice of the world. She was certain if she reached out a hand she wouldn't feel empty, breezy island air but something thicker, darker.

It's the same now. She can't see anything at all, anything except the intoxicating darkness.

Instead, her senses are filled with the water and the wind, the smell of salt and wet wood, the rustle of nylon rain jackets as Derek shifts beside her, pulling her closer against him. She lets herself be soothed by feel of him, the strength of his body against hers, without second guesses or shame or the intense, heartbreaking disappointment of the shower.

Savvy's words flit through her memory.

 _Tell him. He needs to know._

If she had taken her friend's advice, if she had told Derek the last time, would they be here right now? Would she have to qualify and dissect the sensations of something as simple as seating herself next to her own husband, the way his arm feels along the back of the bench, the way they've sat a thousand times before?

He hasn't asked her where they're going, not again, not since they left the dock. The craft moves smoothly along the water, carving its trail.

.-.-.

"Can I talk?" Derek asks as patiently as he can muster.

"From what I've heard, you sure can," Augie replies pleasantly, working the boat with expert precision along the curves of the river.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, not this again. Sav," Augie turns to her cousin. "Is he always like this?"

"Augie," Addison says quietly, from next to him, and he appreciates it.

"Look," Augie says, not turning around, her long blonde ponytail blowing out behind her, "I know you're new here, but I'm sure you've figured out the island has its own rules. The island's been around a lot longer than we have and it'll still be here a long time after we've all shuffled off – come _on_ , Sav, don't get all mushy." Augie elbows her cousin. "I just want him to understand."

"He'll understand when he gets there," Savvy says.

Derek stares out at the inky darkness. And then there's a sudden glow – faint, even dull, but it's something. Savvy's switched on the squat little dashboard lantern. They must be far enough from the island now not to bother anyone.

Silently, Derek tries to remember what he knows of the geography surrounding the island. It isn't much, but he banked on it last night to make it across the river, heart in his throat – and in his boat – and he made it. He knows you have to cross Three Rivers to get to the mainland, but he's fairly certain they haven't taken the curve at Black River – the one that, inbound, brings the island to first view. There's Two Crab Island, the landmark he remembered from his fishing trip with Beau and Boswell. He couldn't draw the coordinates, not exactly.

"Two Crab Island," he says out loud.

He sees Savvy and Augie exchange a look. "What do you know about Two Crab?"

"I went fishing with Beau and Boswell," he says. "Is that where we're going?"

"No."

They don't offer more, and he knows better than to press at this point. There's Two Crab, with its lighthouse, triangulated with …

With something else.

A dark smudge on the horizon, a … something, and when he asked what it was, he recalls that Beau and Bos exchanged a glance. _Don't worry about it_ , that's what they said. If he recalls his points right, then that must mean…

He's silent instead of asking, but as they make headway toward it, he starts to feel more sure. No one else speaks until they've covered enough water that he's certain they can't be going anywhere else. Augie cuts the motor; it's quiet, and they drift softly.

"Aug," Savvy says quietly, "Derek steered Addie back from the mainland. He had to have – "

"Goat's Head," Augie says suddenly, and Derek has to listen closely to make sure he made out the words correctly.

"Goat's … Head?"

"Goat's Head. The name of the island. It's the _land not inhabited_ ," Augie explains. "It's … from the bible."

Derek is confused, but he stays quiet, hoping she'll fill in the gaps.

" _And the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not inhabited: and he shall let go the goat in the wilderness,_ " Augie recites. It's not a passage Derek recognizes, though he can identify a sort of biblical rhythm.

"A land not inhabited," he repeats, trying to make sense of it. Addison is quiet beside him.

"It's where you release your sins," Augie continues. "In the past, anyway. Upon the head of a goat, into a land not inhabited. You release them, and then it's just …"

"Healing," Savvy suggests.

Augie nods. "Cleansing," she says.

"Starting over," Savvy adds.

"Beau and Boswell acted like I shouldn't even look at the island," Derek pushes hesitantly. "This one, I mean. Goat's … Head. When we were out on the boat."

"Outsiders aren't supposed to look," Augie says simply. "The curse."

"He's not an outsider," Savvy points out.

"Well, they didn't know that."

Savvy accepts this.

"The curse?" Derek prods.

"The Traveler's Curse."

He remembers the EMTs surprise that he and Addison had come from the island. _Outsiders._ And the shock – even admiration – from some of the Beauforts that he'd managed to steer them both back from the mainland to the island. What was it they said? And Addison too, back at Reeds, when she was trying to convince the cousins to let him join them wherever they were going?

 _The island welcomed him back._

"What's the Traveler's Curse?"

.-.-.

Weiss tosses and turns in a bed that feels too big without Savvy, cool breeze blowing in the open windows, curling the edges of curtains that are older than they are. Finally he gives up trying to sleep and just throws a fleece over his pajamas, toes into slippers that have been there as long as he can remember – he has no idea whose they are – and trudges out to the porch.

For a few moments he just stares out through the island darkness in the general direction of the rivers. _It's time,_ Savvy said, and he knew better than to argue. But not arguing doesn't mean he doesn't worry. He focuses on the sliver of moon and the scattering of stars and has a brief longing for some white lightning. He's considering going inside to find some when he hears a creaking sound from down the other end of the porch.

He's not alone.

"Sorry," a low voice rumbles. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Weiss looks over to see Russ – Augie's husband, his own cousin in law of some degree that the Beauforts never seem to stick to very strictly – seated in one of the rocking chairs with a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms.

"Someone couldn't sleep and just had to be on the rocker on the porch." Russ's voice is soft, but from what Weiss can see, the little girl on his lap is deeply asleep.

Weiss doesn't question his story, and Russ doesn't ask why Weiss is up. Almost unconsciously, both of them glance in the direction of Three Rivers.

"Chilly out tonight," Weiss says casually.

Russ nods. There's a knitted blanket wrapped around the child he's holding. "Been a strange spell of weather."

"Even for the island?"

Russ pauses his rocking for a moment. "They'll be back," he says quietly.

"I know." Weiss rests a hand on one of the columns supporting the portico. It's far too dark to see, even with the squat little portable light hanging from one of the beams, but he knows that Savvy and her brother marked their heights on one of the columns with grease pencil – red for Sav, black for Bos – every year over the long decades they came to the island. The marks have faded some but they're still there, a testament to every inch of them and a reminder of the passage of time.

The thought of parents marking their children's heights makes him think of children in general, makes his stomach twist as he recalls the plans they've been making. They were just plans at first, just talking, because _we have all the time in the world_ , didn't they?

Now he watches Russ rocking his sleeping daughter and wonders if their time has run out.

Russ sees him watching. "Y'all will be parents if that's what you want," he says quietly.

"I thought it was what we wanted." Weiss sinks into the rocker next to father and daughter. Russ overheard some of the fiery conversations among Augie, Savvy, and Weiss, and probably heard _about_ the others. There's no need to clarify. "I thought we wanted the same thing," Weiss adds, warning his voice not to crack.

"You do," Russ says. "You just have different ways going about it."

"Yeah." Weiss pushes off the floorboards with one slippered foot, letting the rocker move back and forth.

"Weiss … you don't want Savvy to die."

"How can you – " Weiss lowers his voice when Minna stirs on her father's lap. "Sorry," he mutters, not feeling very sorry at all.

"No you're not, but that's okay." Russ sighs. "Look, I was just trying to say, you and Savvy, you both want the same thing. You want her to live."

Weiss has to force down every instinct to say _stop, don't talk about it, you don't talk about these things,_ even after almost twenty years of immersing himself in the sprawling Beaufort clan has taught him that they talk about all sorts of things he wouldn't necessarily expect … or want.

When Savvy is with him it's easy to get lost in her, to focus completely on her during this difficult time, making sure she knows he's there for her, that she eats and sleeps and _breathes_ as much as she can while she says goodbye to her mother. But lying alone in the bed they've been sharing, wandering through the cottage without her, and now settled on the porch, he finds himself

"I don't want things to change," he admits. "I _like_ the way things are now."

"You and me both, brother." Russ sighs. "We don't really get much of a choice in the matter, do we? Gotta keep moving … only other choice is to stop and you don't want to do that. You stop moving …"

… _you're already gone._ He doesn't have to finish the sentence; it's a Beaufort favorite Weiss has heard many times.

"I'm sorry," he says then, suddenly remembering that while his wife is afraid of getting sick, Russ's wife actually _is_ sick, even if she doesn't want anyone to talk about it.

He sees the faint outline of Russ nodding in the low light.

"What if she didn't want to treat it?" Weiss finds the words tumbling out, even as he's worried they're horrendously insensitive. "Would you do what she wanted?"

There's a long, regretful silence.

"Listen, Russ –"

"No, it's all right. I kind of walked into that one." Russ sighs, a long, pained sigh. "She's stubborn, Augie, she's got her own strong ways of … and if that's what she wanted I don't know what I could do except … be there, I suppose. Talk to her."

"But not talk her out of it."

"Have you ever talked Savvy out of anything?"

"No," Weiss admits, finding himself smiling a little.

"Well, there you go."

There's a long moment of silence while both men push their rocking chairs back and forth. It's broken when Minna lets out a soft little snore and Russ chuckles.

"Takes after her mama," he says fondly.

Weiss holds two handfuls of the worn wooden rocking chair. The arms curve down into intricate whorls; they're aged now, but at one point they were new. It's Great Uncle Bolton who was the whittler, he's pretty sure, or was it one of the long-ago Beaus? The grain of the wood has definitely changed over the years; there might even have been paint, long ago. Now it's practically worn smooth, not a splinter to be had as his thumb traces the lines of it.

For long moments it's just the faint squeaking of the two rocking chairs and the soft sounds of the birds and insects who share the island.

He glances at Russ. "So … that's all we can do, then? No say, no vote? Just … be there?"

"You say it like it's nothing," Russ responds.

"Well, it's not much," Weiss says, hearing his voice shake a little.

"That's where you're wrong, boy." Russ shakes his head. "Not much? Actually … it's a whole hell of a lot."

.-.-.

 _All in good time,_ that's what Augie said instead of answering, and before Derek could press her the squat little dashboard lantern illuminated a dense thicket of trees, coming closer and closer until –

With a _thunk_ the boat connects with the shore, jolting him. There's a soft sound from next to him – Addison, and he grabs for her instinctually, worried. The light's all wrong for seeing her face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she murmurs. "Just – help me out?"

"Of course."

Augie gets out first, and she and Savvy squat down together on ... something to secure the boat. It's not a dock. There's no _anything_ that he can sense in the sliver of moonlight. The cousins appear to be speaking a language he can't quite understand, some sort of island shorthand.

"Here, Sav," Augie murmurs.

"It's the one?"

"No, the other."

Four hands move swiftly and the boat is tied to something he can't see.

"Okay." Savvy stands, brushing her hands off, and Augie directs the flashlight's meager beam along … something. The ground is predictably marshy under his feet, reeds so tall they brush his legs above the tops of his high boots. The wetness and the call of familiar sea birds give way before too long, though, to something else entirely.

His rubber boots slap earth thicker and drier now, the low beam illuminating … not a path exactly, but some kind of rough dirt flattening between low-hanging vegetation. Wherever they are, he gets the sense it has been disturbed before, if not often. The sense is affirmed by how Savvy and Augie seem to know exactly where they're going.

He realizes he's still holding Addison's hand, has been since he helped her out of the boat, but she feels like the only real thing in this leafy, wet dream world so he doesn't exactly want to let go. She doesn't seem surprised at quickly the marshy coast has given way to something else entirely.

It's turned from cool to cold as they walk, chilly gusts moving his hair and frosting the tips of his ears – he gets the sense of elevation, that they're climbing something, but he's concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

A sudden, loud cry breaks the stillness.

He freezes, pulling Addison closer to him instinctually, and then he hears it again.

"What the –"

"Just a fox," Augie says lightly.

" _Just_?" Derek shakes his head as he hears a third cry, this one intermingling with the other. More than one. More than that, he's sure.

"It's their space," Savvy says, "they won't both us if we don't bother them."

Crickets chirp loudly as if agreeing with her.

Aren't they _bothering them_ by traipsing through their unspoiled habitat?

But Augie isn't taking any more questions, apparently. "Keep up," she hisses over her shoulder as she continues the trek. The elevation is more obvious now.

"Where are we going?" Derek dares to ask.

"Just follow, would you?"

He swallows a retort, since Augie's the only one with a flashlight.

And they keep walking.

It could be moments or hours, that's how disconnected from time he feels in this strange place. It smells sharp and leafy, with a darker earthy scent underneath. Things grow here. Grow wild, no doubt. They grow, bloom, and desiccate, and their traces are everywhere.

He can't see more than a few feet ahead – the land mass could be a few yards across or miles; he has no way to know.

What he does know is the conflicting, equally strong sensations of closeness – from the dense vegetation, the leaves both soft and sharp he's constantly brushing away from both of them as they walk – and vastness, from the dizzying sensation that the eerily empty space they're exploring goes on forever.

He's not used to feeling this unsure. It's not that he's not comfortable in the outdoors. He grew up camping in state parks, fishing on easily charted lakes, hiking on well-marked trails. He was the one who had to try to convince Addison to do even the tamest of hikes outside the city, mainly convincing her with the close proximity of local vineyards.

Yet here they are in the strangest place he's ever been, and it's Addison who seems more sure-footed than he does. He doesn't try to ask more questions about what they're doing; the answers will be circular anyway. Instead, he just tries to keep up.

As the dirt path turns rockier, steeper, they're still holding hands, but he's not leading her anymore; he's pretty sure it's the other way around.

The two figures in front of them stop with no warning; Derek, who's been focused on not slipping, bumps into one of them.

"Hush," Augie scolds as if he did it on purpose; he doesn't defend himself, though, the stillness that's guided their journey has turned into something else entirely, and he doesn't have to ask where they are.

Not because he knows where they are.

But because he understands that they're here.

.-.-.

 _Where are we?_

 _Here._

 _But where's here?_

 _It's … here._

 _Sav, come on, would you just –_

 _That's what it is! Here! It's here when you need it._

 _And when you don't?_

 _We wouldn't be here if you didn't._

 _That doesn't make any –_

 _Sure it does._

 _Savvy, I'm not going to – oh my god._

 _See? I told you._

 _That's not … normal, Sav!_

 _Normal is overrated, Addie._

 _Maybe so, but I'm not going to just …_

 _You need to._

 _How do you know that?_

 _Because you're here._

 _That's just circular, come on … you sound like the Red Queen. Savvy, that's not a compliment, stop – oh!_

 _Just follow me, Ad._

 _But where –_

 _Trust me._

 _I do trust you, Sav. I'm here, aren't I? Even if I don't know where 'here' is?_

.-.-.

Augie's flashlight carves an arc of yellow light around a ring of damp grey rocks, sloping toward a pool of moving, living water. The water glows greenish, steam rising from its burbling surface, at odds with the cold wind above it.

A natural spring.

He pauses, taking it in, or as much of it as he can see.

It might be beautiful in daylight; here in the pressing darkness with only one beam offsetting the darkness, it's eerie; between the circle of sloping rocks and the steamy surface of the spring, it almost seems like a cauldron.

And it's fragrant.

He wrinkles his nose.

"Sulphur," Savvy supplies. "It's good for you."

"It's … strong."

"So are a lot of things that are good for you," Augie notes mildly.

"Okay, look." He takes a deep breath. "I don't want to disrespect this … ritual … or whatever magical island things are behind it. Okay? But Addison had a medical emergency twenty-four hours ago. It's one thing to drag her out –"

"Derek."

He keeps talking, ignoring her interruption. " – in the middle of the night on a trip to wherever we are. But it's another thing to expect her to get into … whatever that is."

"It's a natural spring," Savvy says mildly.

"Addie." Derek moves closer to her, hoping to get her to hear him, but she shakes her head very slightly.

He remembers the warnings at the hospital, that her cervix isn't yet fully closed, and he winces, thinking of what could be in the water, thinking of her submerging herself in god knows –

"Everyone makes their own choices," Augie says, almost kindly. "Don't they?"

Savvy looks from one to the other, then simply turns her back and strips her shirt over her head.

"Savvy!"

He closes his eyes automatically as the low flashlight beam illuminates her long bare back.

"Derek, don't be such a prude," Savvy scolds, "don't you remember when we all used to share one cabana at the beach house? And besides," she turns around, smiling almost slyly. "They're not going to be around much longer."

"Hear, hear," Augie says as Derek averts his eyes, stripping down to panties before traipsing toward the spring.

So he was right that they're getting into the water, but why do they need to –

"Is this some kind of … orgy?" Derek asks nervously.

Augie throws back her head and laughs. "Oh, only in your _dreams_ , boy."

"Derek … it's okay." Addison is pulling at his arm, and then unzipping his jacket for him.

He lets her, though the cold gusts of wind circling them makes him question his decision. There's something about the goldish-green steam and the cool black winds above it that makes him feel compelled.

But it's cold. He shivers once he's down to his t-shirt and even in the low light he can see that Addison's lips are faintly blue.

"Addie … it's freezing, this is crazy …"

"It will be warm in there," she assures him, her chattering teeth leaving him dubious.

She points towards the burbling spring. He sees that Savvy and Augie are both in up to their bare shoulders now, their hair very blonde against the water. There are a few scraps of lace on the rocks that look as if they've been flung.

All right, then. He's still leaving his shorts on.

No one protests; he focuses on moving toward the slippery rocks, one arm supporting Addison … who strangely doesn't protest or accuse him of hovering. They find their way down to the rocks in a surprisingly smooth rhythm, until they're sitting close together on the cold stone.

Addison's knees are drawn up, arms wrapped around them; she's naked, but he's drawn less to the familiar elegant lines of her body and more to the way she's shaking. It's cold. It's _crazy_ what they're doing, that's what it is –

"Derek," she whispers, icy fingers touching his arm, and he glances at what he can see of her face illuminated by that one beam of light.

In that same light, he sees one of Augie's arms reaching out of the spring, a flick of her wrist, and then two things happen:

They're plunged into darkness.

And they're plunged into the spring, cold sharp rock giving way to blessedly hot water, hot enough to still trembling limbs. The water feels strangely heavy – almost thick – cradling his body and holding it at the surface even as its bubbling, active movement splashes at his skin.

He tries to grasp his situation.

First and foremost … it's dark.

So dark, darker even than the boat ride.

It's darker than _anything_ , and for a moment of sheer sensory deprivation he's not sure he can breathe. Gusts of chill wind move his hair while hot water sluices over his shoulders and the contrast of it all in the overwhelming darkness leaves him dizzy.

No one is speaking.

He has no idea how much time is passing.

He could be anywhere, anything, and the vacuum of darkness is somehow both terrifying and deeply seductive.

The cold wind moves, the hot water moves … but he doesn't move.

He doesn't _breathe_ , not exactly; he finds himself holding onto a nervous inhale.

He's floating. But not the kind of floating he associates with a pool or even the mobile ocean. This sensation is different, as if he's being pulled and pushed at once, the oddly heavy water surrounding him. The quality of the air, the scent of the breeze that lifts the hairs on the back of his neck.

It's as if someone turned out the light on the world.

Then the water pressure changes and he feels her brush against him, the nudge of her shoulder, the press of her side, those familiar contours.

And he exhales.

.-.-.

It's just as she remembers.

It starts the way it always does, the hot gushing water drawing her in while the cold wind batters the parts of her she can't huddle into the spring.

It's just as she remembers.

Like the last time, the water is heavy, cradling her, the strong scent wafting around her nostrils. It's pungent but the sulphurous quality has given way to something else, something earthier and richer.

It's just as she remembers … except it's also different.

Yes, there's that moment of plunging darkness, terrifying and alluring all at once, as if the spring blotted out the whole rest of the world.

And there's the eerie, uncharacteristic silence, devoid of the birdsong and chirping insects she associates so strongly with this terrain.

But now her senses are flooded with something else entirely as she brushes up against his familiar shape in the water, her limbs sighing recognition. He is warm beside her, and then behind her, as he continues to move.

He moves because the water moves. You can't really stay still in the spring; she remembers that too. It's always moving, like time.

She leans back against his heat at one point and his arms come around her, under the water. She lets him take her weight, what there is of it, what the spring hasn't already taken. They haven't spoken – she's not sure she _could_ speak – yet she feels his presence strongly.

The water is silky soft, the pungent odor completely gone now. She smells something else, green and alive, in the cold air around them.

The contrast of hot water and cold air leaves her a little breathless; she feels his fingers against her skin, moving some sweaty tendrils of hair off her neck.

He's very close, his lips nearly brushing her ear. It would be so easy to let go, to relax fully against him and shut her eyes to the last month and a half of her life.

It would be easy, but it wouldn't be fair, she has to remind herself, not when he's been so caring since her miscarriage, out of … she's not sure what. A sense of duty, remaining affection for her as a person.

 _Be mine again_ , that's what she's thinking, without meaning to. It's just that it's so quiet, so still, that words twinkle gently through her mind the way the stars move across the great black bowl of the sky overhead.

She's filled with a powerful sense of longing, for something that surprises her.

It's not for the past, the years of golden happiness she can still remember with painful accuracy.

It's for a future she hasn't felt yet. The future she's ruined – with her careless act, and with her inability to act _further_ to move on from it. With the inertia that kept her in Mark's bed, the fear that led her to seek him out, over and over, after Derek left. The same fear that's clung to her in some form for a long time.

It's the future she misses, the one she hasn't seen. The one she won't get to see, because of what she did.

 _I'm sorry,_ she says to no one, in no voice, not penetrating the intense silence of the spring. _I'm so sorry._

She makes no sound but she hears the words somehow anyway, hears them, sees them, _feels_ them as if all her senses are one.

And then it's Savvy's voice she hears, the first spoken word since they plunged into the stream.

"Ready?"

The answer to that question is an action, not a word, and she finds her hand sliding down in the water to brush Derek's. _Follow me,_ she says without words, and then she's drawing in a last cold mouthful of air before she leadens her body and slips beneath the bubbling surface of the spring.

.-.-.

He feels it in contrasts, in black and white, hot and cold, the burn of her touch and then the freeze of its absence and then she's gone. She's slipped under. And he should panic – infection, oxygen, everything – but instead of panicking he finds himself listening to her unspoken words, _follow me_ , and he closes his eyes and ducks down until the hot gushing water covers his head.

.-.-.

They are not four, under the water. They are one, moving closer together, fingers brushing, helping each other, helping the water push them down. Their lungs fill and they should be bursting, they should be surfacing on instinct alone but there's something happening instead. A glow, penetrating the darkness, something golden and warm. It moves swiftly from feet to shoulders to electrify the top of all four of their heads.

.-.-.

 _It's not the same as last time. It's completely different._

 _Okay._

 _Okay? Sav, you're not listening._

 _I'm listening. I'm here._

 _Savvy, I don't understand._

 _You don't need to understand, Addie. You just need to be here._

 _Be here and then what?_

 _Be here and wait._

 _Wait?_

 _You can't have forgotten that._

.-.-.

Addison feels his fingers brush hers, surprised he can touch her, feel her under the water, but all she can do is tell him without words or sight to hold on, wait, _trust me_ , but why should he, but he _does_ , because it's a moment later that she feels a great rush of pressure leaving her body as if she's sent the heaviest part of her away and just like that, she's popping back to the surface leaving her burdens behind.

.-.-.

Savvy's next to break the surface. Next because Addison was first; she can't see her, but she knows. Augie joins them after a moment, drawing big lungfuls of air.

"Sav … Derek's …"

"Leave him, Addie," Savvy murmurs.

"But he's not …" Panic rings her tone. "Savvy, maybe something happened…"

"Something is supposed to happen," Savvy says softly. "You _want_ something to happen. That's why we're here."

"No, it's … it's too long."

"You have to have faith, honey. Come on, he won't get this opportunity again. Don't let it go, Ad."

But Addie's breaths are coming fast, panting, and Savvy is starting to get just a little nervous. _The island won't let us down_ , she reminds herself firmly.

"Savvy … _Savvy_ ," Addison whispers. "Please, I can't just – "

And then with a splash he surfaces.

.-.-.

His head has no sooner cleared the water than she's grabbed him around the neck like she never would, not in the water, not with both of their lifeguard training, not unless she wanted to drown him but she needs to convince herself it's true.

That he's actually surfaced.

That he's come back.

The water cradles her and suddenly, she understands … both that she's been waiting, and why.

It's the difference that hasn't really been clear to her until now. That she sought out Mark because she didn't want to be alone.

But she is here with Derek, now … because she wants to be with _him_.

It's always been him.

Her cold cheek presses his and she feels his arms come around her – he shouldn't; her body will drag his down under the water. It's simple science, it's buoyancy, it's _law_ that they should weigh each other down now, clinging like this.

It's dangerous. Isn't it?

But somehow holding each other tightly like this seems to supersede the law.

They don't sink lower, together. They don't sink at all.

They rise.

* * *

 _ **To be continued.  
Thank you SO MUCH for reading. Please let me know what you think. I truly appreciate every word. I know this chapter was a little bit different with its frequent shifts in perspective, but this part of the story is a little bit different too. I want to get Chapter 18 up with far less of a wait, and you're the fuel to the fire that keeps me squeezing writing time into busy days. Questions? Thoughts? Pretty please review. Until next trip - xoxo. **_


	18. on the margin of the river

**_A/N: Thank you so, so much for all your wonderful and generous feedback during our time away from the island. It's so motivating and I appreciate it so much. I never thought it would take this long to update, but I had a bit of block around this story. So here's a big fat chapter. Good news, if you're still on board, is that most of Chapter 19 is written already. So you can expect it within a week or so. Thank you again. I love writing this story even when it frustrates me and I hope you enjoy this next chapter on the island._**

* * *

.-.-.

 _ **Some Bright Morning  
**_ _18\. on the margin of the river_

.-.-.

* * *

 _Her teeth are chattering as she strips off her clothes and, with them, more than fifteen years._

" _It's freezing, Sav,"she protests when her friend tries to move her forward._

" _I know. But it won't be when we get in. Don't you remember the last time, Addie?"_

" _I remember."_

 _Savvy touches her shaking arm with chilled fingers. It's just the two of them. "Are you ready?"_

 _Addison shakes her head._

" _It's ready for us, though," Savvy says gently, indicating the vapor rising off the surface of the spring._

" _I'm sorry, Sav." There are tears in her eyes it's too dark to see, and in her voice you can't help but hear. "I'm not – I don't know what's wrong with me."_

" _Nothing's wrong with you," Savvy says._

 _Addison makes a short sarcastic noise. "Tell that to the resident I walked out on."_

" _You can fix all that."_

" _Not everything."_

 _Savvy hugs her. "Not by yourself, maybe. So let the spring help you."_

 _Addie draws a deep, shaking breath. "Okay." Her voice is still trembling. "Okay, I'm ready."_

 _Savvy takes her cold fingers in her own, squeezes her hand reassuringly. "You're going to be okay," she soothes._

" _You always say that," Addie mumbles._

" _And you always are, aren't you?"_

 _There are no more words: together, they slide into the beckoning spring._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

The mystical quality of the shimmering water and the deep black night is somewhat broken when Augie, seeing that Derek has stripped off his wet boxers on the rocks, laughs heartily.

Derek tries to glare at her, but it's too dark.

"You take 'em off first, or you take 'em off last," Augie pronounces sagely, as she climbs back into what look in the barely-there lantern light like water absorbent pants.

"Leave him alone, Aug," Savvy says.

Derek, whose teeth are chattering, doesn't respond. He's warmer once the icy wet fabric is away from his skin, and he dresses, sans underwear, with as much dignity as he can manage. The shirt helps. The fleece helps even more.

It's hard to believe they were so warm moments ago, submerged in the bubbling spring, now that they're back in the cold air.

Did it happen?

Was it a dream?

"So." Augie's voice brings him back to reality. "What did you think, city boy?"

Derek is busy wrapping his rain jacket around Addison's shoulders, over the one she's already wearing; she barely protests, just tucks herself under his arm so he can keep both of them warm as they make their chilly way back to the boat. Her hand threads into the pockets of his fleece.

"I think I get it," Derek says simply.

"You hear that, Sav? He thinks he gets it."

Augie leads the way, little square lantern bobbing in her grasp, and the others follow.

The walk back to the boat is somehow much shorter than the walk to the spring; before long, they gathered on the same edge of … nothing … where they docked the craft. Augie tosses him a life jacket.

The wind kicks up as the four of them don their protective the gear and impulsively, he pulls Addison closer. Is it the cold air? Muscle memory? Something else?

Maybe it's that the world is so big here on the edge of the land with the sea creeping up to greet it. It just feels right, even for a moment, to face it together.

Maybe she's feeling it too, because she leans against him as they settle in the boat, letting him hold on for both of them.

And then Augie pulls the throttle and everyone hangs on tightly as the boat speeds up.

.-.-.

It's as dark on the ride back as it was on the ride out, but a different dark.

 _A different dark,_ it's not something she would have thought up herself, but something Savvy pointed out years ago. The subtle differences on the island and its environs in darkness and light, in scent and sound. A person could drown in it. She could drown in sensation now, as she leans back against her husband. His arms around her are keeping her warm, but there's something else there, too.

Hope.

But she keeps herself grounded, remembering that the island has already brought more into her life than she could have ever expected. Hope is dangerous. Hope wounds.

So she just leans back against her husband – because he's still her husband, legally even if in no other way, and marvels at how different everything feels when she's in his arms.

The stars seem closer here, even with the great sweeping arc of the sky from point to point so different from the slivers visible between buildings in Manhattan. There's that sense of great space and close intimacy at the same time – she associates this juxtaposition with the island, and it seems like it should be in conflict but it's not.

Somehow … it's harmonious.

She must make a sound or – something, because she hears Derek's voice near her ear.

"Are you all right?"

She smiles a little, because it's so like him to ask. He can be literal – rather black and white, even – and she doesn't know quite how to say that what she's learned from this family, these people, this island that welcomed her more than her own ever did, it's that healing is a spectrum, a journey with stops.

"I'm all right." She rests her hands over his and tips her head back to rest against his neck; his skin is cold but in this position she can feel his warm breath too.

It's another study in island contrasts, the peaceful feel of a smooth boat ride in her husband's arms, and the wild inky darkness that could contain anything, the wind that whips around them. She's looking at the stars, her gaze fixed on the curving arc of the sky – but she's looking at something else, too.

She's looking at the future she was contemplating in the spring – the one she's still too afraid to admit could be lost forever. She hasn't said anything about it, but it must be island magic because as his lips brush her hair she could swear she hears him whisper: _me too_.

.-.-.

The lantern blinks out as the boat makes steady headway along the water, startling Derek, who's grown used to the meager yellow light.

"Augie, we know what you can do, no need to drive blind," Savvy says, sounding amused.

"Hush. You're the one who told me to slow it down." Augie eases up on the throttle and the boat drifts to an easy halt.

"I know that." Savvy pauses. "Derek … you asked about Goat's Head, before."

Before he saw it. Before he experienced it.

He just nods, forgetting she won't be able to see him.

"And the Traveler's Curse. They're not unrelated."

He feels Addison shift slightly against him. In the thick inky darkness, _feeling_ is all he has: cold wind, the warm pressure of his wife's body.

"Goat's Head is … well, it's had lots of uses over the years."

"Your family owns it too?" Derek asks.

"No one owns Goat's Head, not really," Savvy explains. "It's _the land uninhabited._ Except it's kind of inhabited."

"It was a stop on the Underground Railroad," Augie interjects. "The Beauforts didn't exactly have their finger on the Revolution but they sorted out the right sides after a fashion. It was easy to hide runaways there. No one wanted to be caught dead on Goat's Head and so … no one was."

Derek tries to take it in. "And the Traveler's Curse? They seem to believe in it on the mainland." He recalls the EMTs who met his boat.

"Yeah, they do. And it helped a whole bunch of people escape, too."

"Has it been used for … that, since then?" Derek asks.

There's a long pause. "Here and there," Augie says finally.

"But the spring," Derek probes.

"You were there," Savvy says. "The spring is … the spring. It's part of Goat's Head."

"But it's not really _the land uninhabited_?"

"Sure it is."

"But only because you call it that?"

"Isn't everything what it is because it's called what it is?" Savvy asks practically.

Derek frowns. "That's circular."

"So's the island," Augie says, and pulls the throttle to speed the boat up again.

They ride the rest of the way in silence, droplets of water flecking chilled skin, huddling close for warmth. Derek helps Addison out of the boat, skimming his hands over her automatically once he's eased off her life jacket, finding it hard to believe she seems so … whole, so healthy, after what it was like to bring her back to the island last time.

"We'll walk you back," Savvy announces as they step off the dock. The island is draped in the sounds of nighttime silence: chirping crickets, the periodic hoots of owls. In the darkness the land feels wild, untamed.

"You don't need to," Derek says, knowing the cottages are in the opposite direction from the dock.

"We've got the light," Augie reminds him.

He thinks at this point he could feel his way back to Reeds, but he doesn't say it, just follows down the cleared path after the cousins.

Pulling open the door of Red Fox, he ushers Addison in ahead of him and turns to say good night to Savvy and Augie.

"Derek …" Savvy pulls him aside. "Listen. The Traveler's Curse, you know, maybe it's made up. Maybe it had a purpose, way back then, a noble one, and now it's just a silly rumor. But the thing is, whatever it is and whatever it means … no one but a Beaufort has ever crossed Three Rivers to the island, not in my memory, not in my mother's generation or the one above that. No one, until you."

"Because no one tried," Derek suggests.

"Maybe you're right." Savvy pulls up the pale pink hood of her raincoat. "Maybe that's why. But does it matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … that's the thing. You have to be the one who tried, if you want to figure out if you can do something."

He's considering this when the door to their room opens again.

"Derek." Addison leans her head out, looking confused. "Are you coming in, or …?"

"I'm coming," he says quickly, and turns back to follow up on Savvy's comment, but she's already gone, just the hood of her coat barely visible in the pre-dawn mist.

He closes the door behind him.

Time, which seemed to stand still on the journey, catches up to him in a gust of air. From Addison's expression, she's feeling something similar.

They should sleep, he realizes this. But as he prepares to peel river damp clothes from his body, he thinks they should probably bathe first.

"Let's just sleep," Addison says, as if reading his mind.

It's a tempting thought.

"Don't we … smell?" he asks, doubtfully, as she approaches.

"No." Addison leans forward. "See?"

Her long, damp hair tickles his neck, and he feels the warmth of her breath next to his ear. He inhales deeply, as she seems to want him to, taking in the scent.

And she's right.

There's none of the sulphurous smell that assaulted their nostrils when they first encountered the spring. She smells like something else entirely, something light and reborn, and underneath it, the scent he's always associates with her, something with the sweet and the bite of citrus all at once. He used to have the sensation, so many years ago, of biting into ripe fruit.

She lingers, and he neither pushes her away nor encourages her closer, just stands there with her breathing her in, tasting her scent, the underlying notes that stretch out into memory. He can smell the carefully sourced espresso beans she's always insisted on, the crisp bleach smell of her white lab coats, the notes of perfume that would cling to her blouses at the end of a long day.

He would unzip her dresses – always, if he was home, and he never stopped to think how she did it without him, because he would always be there to do it himself – and the scent would surround him; he'd take a moment to press his lips to the back of her neck where it dipped into the muscles of her back and shoulders, that sensual spot hidden from everyone but him.

He inhales again and smells thick yellow highlighters and the ildew odor of their textbooks, that way the library smelled during finals, like a combination of coffee and powdered cheese and the rubber on the bottom of their shoes.

And mint gum. Spearmint, not peppermint. The first time he bought it for her from a bodega near school his fingers slid past blue to green and he wondered why it had never before occurred to him to buy it.

He'd caught a whiff of spearmint in the hospital in Seattle, just once, from a patient, and had to excuse himself to deal with the nausea. He closed himself off after that, because his senses couldn't be exposed, not after fifteen years of living together, waking up with her hair spread across his pillow and one of her legs flung over his.

One more inhale and it's formaldehyde and anxiety that first day of gross anatomy lab, and she's extending a latex hand and then laughing at her own rubbery fingers and his life is opening up. Their life together is beginning.

"Derek."

He glances up, his reverie broken.

She's standing very close, still.

"So … how do I smell?" Addison asks, tilting her head quizzically.

"Good," he says simply, "you smell good," and she smiles.

.-.-.

"You're freezing, Sav," he protests when her cold toes find his.

"So warm me up."

"So we can both get pneumonia?" But he tugs her close anyway, drawing the quilt over her shoulders.

"Warmer," she purrs, and he pulls his fingers through long hair tangled by two trips on the river.

"Ow." She laughs little, wincing.

"You usually like a good hair pull," he teases her, but his hands turn gentle in the tumbled strands.

Soothed, she rests her head against him, enjoying the thumping beat of his heart under her cheek, the warmth of his skin. She toys with the hair on his chest and hears the slight change in his breathing she's not sure anyone else would notice.

Lightly, she presses her lips to his collarbone. He shifts a little under her; heartened, she does it again.

"Did you miss me?" she asks.

"I always miss you when you're not here."

"I needed to go," she says softly.

"I know that, babe. I knew you'd be back. I understand."

"You do understand." She feels … gratitude, wonder, and she presses her lips to his skin again. "Weiss … how much did you say you missed me?"

"I'm not a machine, Sav," he scolds gently, "you can't just wake me up in the middle of the night and expect me to…"

They both pause, her lips halfway across one clavicle.

"Well, good morning to you too," she says, laughing a little, and then clapping her hand over her mouth to muffle a squeal of surprise when he presses her into the pillows.

.-.-.

He's dreaming something he can't quite remember – there's water, and warmth – when a knock on the door drags him out of sleep.

Opening his eyes doesn't help much, since there's a waterfall of red hair blocking his vision. Gently, so as not to wake its owner, he brushes the strands off of his face. Addison is still sleeping, her cheek against his shoulder – he's not sure when that happened. He'd like her to keep sleeping, and he throws a glance of annoyance toward the door as if their interrupter will be able to see it.

Carefully, he slides his hands under her sleep warmed body and moves her off of him, setting her back on her side of the bed. He waits a moment to insure he hasn't woken her, then swings his legs out of bed.

"Yes?" he says, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice as he pulls open the door.

It's Beau – which doesn't really help matters – illuminated by morning light behind him and looking awfully wide awake considering how tired Derek is.

"You're on breakfast today," Beau says shortly, glancing down at Derek's attire. He's wearing flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. "But if you'd like, I can tell the others you need your beauty sleep."

"I'm sorry." He rubs a hand through his hair, remember that they're guests here. "I didn't realize – I'll, uh, I'll be right there."

"And Miss Addie too? You're both on duty."

"No." Derek shakes his head. "She needs to rest. I'll do both our share."

"You're both on duty."

"I understand that," he says patiently, "but Addison is recovering."

"The rule is – "

"Derek, it's fine."

Addison is behind him; he hadn't realized she was awake.

"It's not fine, Addison, you need to rest."

"We'll be there in a minute," she assures Beau, ignoring Derek's attempt to interject.

When an annoyingly casual Beau has ambled back down the path, Addison turns to Derek. "I appreciate it," she tells him, "really, I do. But it's the rule."

"Addie … you were up half the night. You were in the hospital yesterday!"

"I know, Derek." Lightly, she touches his shoulder. "You were hurt too."

"I'm fine." He flexes the muscles, waiting to flinch – but he doesn't feel the tug of pain he did yesterday, the one wrought by breaking through the locked bathroom door.

Actually … it doesn't hurt at all.

"So am I," she says. She raises her hand to his face, tentatively, like she's worried he'll push her away, and he sees the moment its scruff registers with her. "Go shave," she tells him lightly.

"Do they have shades of shame for that too?" he asks over his shoulder and sees her smile.

Still, as he finishes dressing, he finds himself confused … and a bit irritated. The Beauforts have seemed nothing if not solicitous of Addison all this time – Beau in particular – and now they're insisting on her participating in breakfast chores when they're aware she's still recovering?

"Dress warmly," he reminds her as he reaches for his own coat, recalling the gust of cold air when he pulled open the door.

"Okay, Mom," she says teasingly.

They both pause for a minute. There's an uncertainty in Addison's eyes, just a flicker, and then it disappears.

"Don't forget the mug."

He holds it out to her. "I already have it," he says.

She looks surprised – maybe even a little impressed.

As he closes the door to Red Fox behind them, following Addie over the weathered patio and along the cleared, reed-lined path toward the hearth, he realizes it. The island, which had seemed so strange on arrival, suddenly feels almost normal after the eerie mystique of Goat's Head the previous night.

.-.-.

"Addison needs to rest," Derek says as soon as they set foot on the hearth.

Embarrassed, Addison glares at him. "I'm fine. I can help."

"Addie," he says warningly.

"Oh good, you brought the mug," Camden interjects – the underwear-model pig farmer, ponytailed with her sleeves pushed up. She must be on breakfast too. Camden fills the mug with black coffee and hands it to Addison.

Glancing at Derek, Addison moves along the stone bench to add cream. "Here," she says. "You can go first."

Derek swallows the coffee gratefully – it's easy to drain the mug and he needs the caffeine – before he hands it back.

He glances around the hearth. Beau isn't there, but he recognizes Beau's wife Lily at the firepit, poking in the coals, her small blonde daughter at her side.

"Let's get to it, then." Cammie says, filling the mug with black coffee and handing it to Addison. She glances at Derek. "Sit, Addie, and we'll let the boys cook for us. Beau'll be back in a bit."

She settles in with a plaid wool blanket over both of them, looking rather cozy in the crisp morning air. Addison's face has color, he notices, her shoulders relaxed; he's known her long enough to know her tells for pain.

He finds himself suddenly feeling a lot better.

"Eggs," he says thoughtfully, turning toward the stone bench. "Eggs?" he repeats, turning to Lily, who nods.

"Eggs," he says once more, seeing a bright blonde head out of the corner of his eyes with a hopeful expression. It's Beau and Lily's little girl, Avery. "I'm on eggs. Hmm…"

"Do you need anything?" Lily asks.

"I've got a bowl and enough eggs for an invading army, so … I think I'm set," Derek assures her, and then pauses. "Wait. I think I might need a sous-chef."

"What's a soo-chef?" Avery asks with interest, gazing up at him.

"It's a person who helps me make breakfast … like if I get some shells in the eggs, the sous-chef notices, and helps me get them out."

"Me!" Avery says delightedly. "That's me, Mister Derek, remember? I did that before!"

"You know what, I think you're right," he says, and she beams.

She holds up her arms and he lifts her onto the wide stone bench so she can see what he's doing.

He praises her work when he inspects it, and then pauses as he hears voices from the rough-hewn log benches, rising on the wind.

"Is that really the same Derek who's been on the island all this time?" Cammie murmurs.

Addison doesn't respond. She's watching Derek working at the firepit, almost – jauntily, no trace of the anger and resentment that swirled around him when they first arrived. He seems almost … happy.

"Something's changed," Lily confirms.

"Something has definitely changed," Cammie agrees.

Addison considers this. He's different from the man who arrived on the island, she can see that too, but so inherently _Derek_ , the one she remembers, and misses. The one she hurt. Watching his good mood is almost painful now, his combination of cheer and protectiveness that used to characterize their interaction.

The Derek who _cares._

She watches his shoulders – one of them injured from his daring rescue, another injury she's caused him. A visible one this time.

 _I'm sorry_ has lost meaning, really, and it doesn't seem like enough.

The smell of sizzling sausages wafts over to the benches, and she breathes it in, realizing she's hungry.

Derek, who has been studying the griddle while he listens, turns to the bench where Addison, Lily, and Camden are sitting. "Actually, Camden … I was wondering if you could show me how to tell when the sausages are done."

"It would be my pleasure," Cammie says, throwing Addison a wink and pushing off the bench to join Derek at the firepit.

"Can I have something to do?" Addison calls after a few minutes of this. "I really don't need to rest."

"I really disagree," Derek says mildly, from feet away where he, Cammie, and Avery are working on breakfast.

"I can slice bread or something, Derek," Addison says. "I'll stay sitting down, even."

"Bread." Derek seems to be considering this. "Slicing. That could work."

He brings her the loaf and the knife himself, as well as a breadboard that she rests on the rough-hewn log bench next to her.

"Those are excellent slices," Derek says when he returns to gather the bread for the griddle. "At least I think so. I'm not sure what my sous-chef thinks."

"I think they're really good too," Avery says happily, and follows Derek like a little blonde shadow back to the firepit.

Addison exchanges an amused glance with Cammie as Beau approaches from the warehouse with supplies.

"Daddy!" Avery calls. "Lookit what I did with the eggs!"

Beau sets down the crate he was carrying and peers into the bowl.

"Looking good in there." He takes Avery's little face in his hand. "You helping Mister Derek?"

"Uh-huh." Avery beams at her father. "I'm the sous-chef," she says proudly.

"Yeah? Good." Beau drops a kiss on the top of his daughter's blonde head and releases her. "She's not bothering you?" he asks Derek.

"Not at all. She's been a big help."

.-.-.

Beau settles down on the rough-hewn log bench next to Addison. For a moment, both of them are silent.

Addison catches his eye. "Don't," she says warningly, knowing what he's about to say.

"Who is that engaging fellow and where is your grouchy husband?"

"Beau! I said, _don't._ "

"I know what you said, Addie." He shakes his head. "But I also know what I saw. Making sausages, making nice with Cammie, I think I even heard him humming – and he's put a spell on my Avery."

"Derek loves kids," Addison says softly. "We have nine nieces."

"Nine!"

"And five nephews."

"Giving the Beauforts a run." He glances over at Derek again and then tilts his head, turning back to Addison. "I guess he must've woken up on the right side of the bed this morning." Beau looks like he's fighting a smile. "Not that there are too many sides to that little bed over in Red Fox."

"No, there's –" Addison pauses. "Wait, did you …" Vaguely, she remembers Savvy sending Weiss away before she directed Derek and Addison to their room at Reeds.

"She put us there on purpose." Addison shakes her head, realizing. "But she said Reeds was full with the family and…"

"… and how many of the rooms did you see in use?"

Addison points her finger at Beau. "And you helped her!"

Beau's face is a mask of innocence. "Beausketeers don't snitch."

They exchange a glance with twenty years of history behind it.

"Thank god for that," Addison says, knowing she's speaking for both of them.

.-.-.

"Did you get enough sleep?"

"No," Savvy says, turning around from the rickety dresser in her room at the cottage to give her husband a sly smile, "but that's partly your fault."

He sweeps her long hair aside to kiss her neck. "Guilty," he admits.

"I'll let you off this time." She leans in to press her lips against his, then tugs him closer when he starts to break the contact.

"Sav … we're going to be late for breakfast."

"So?" She slides her fingers through his hair.

" _So …_ I'm not really feeling the shades of shame this morning."

"You look cute in the shades of shame," she tells him. "Remember the time – "

"Oh yeah," he says. "I can't exactly forget. But I'm not really feeling dish duty either."

"Fair enough."

But he can't seem to help skimming his hands over her and she watches through lowered lashes, enjoying his enjoyment. The contrast of his darker complexion against the pale contours of her body has always pleased both of them, but now her vision blurs, interrupted by one of scarred flesh and sagging skin.

Drying up like the flowers in the glass jar here at the cottage.

Preserved without fragrance or blossom.

"Weiss … stop."

He does, immediately, looking at her with concern.

She's quiet for long moments, then looks down at her own body.

"I'm afraid you'll miss this," she admits.

He pauses at her comment; she can't bring herself to meet his eyes until he touches her face, lightly, waiting for her to look at him.

"I always miss you when you're not here, you know that," he says quietly.

She takes both of his hands in hers and rests them on her hips, folding her fingers in his so they are tracing her curves together.

"… which is why you need to be here, Sav. Whatever it takes."

She looks up at him, hopeful. "You mean …"

"Whatever you need to do. I'll support you."

Tears fill her eyes; she wraps her arms around his neck and holds tightly. Even if their bodies stop fitting together as perfectly as they have for twenty years, the rest of them will still fit. She knows it.

"You're shaking," he observes, smoothing her hair. He grabs the blanket from the bed and wraps it around both of them and for long moments they just hold each other.

"So." She pulls back, lifting a hand to touch his face. His cheek is damp, a little scratchy – terribly familiar. "You said something about breakfast?"

They dress quickly, the shades of shame an effective motivator.

"Who's on breakfast today?" Weiss asks casually as they walk down the somewhat-cleared path from the cottages toward the hearth.

"Beau and – " Savvy stops. "Son of a …"

"What?"

He follows her gaze to the back of a dark, curly head. "Derek. And Addison."

Weiss squints into the sun and Savvy points to a smaller red-haired figure.

"Addie should be resting," Savvy says worriedly.

He rests a hand on her shoulder. "Cammie's there, and Beau and Lily," he points out. "They're not going to put her through her paces."

"Still." She glances at Weiss. "What?" she asks suspiciously, stopping mid step and propping a hand on her hip.

"Nothing," he says, draping an arm around her and starting her walking again. "It's just … aren't you the one who always says _trust the island_?"

She's quiet for a minute.

"Shut up," she says finally, but she can't quite hide her smile.

The air coming from the hearth is rich and fragrant. As they get closer, they see Derek moving back and forth between a massive cast-iron pan of eggs and a sizzling skillet of sausage, chatting with Cammie.

He turns when he sees them.

"Weiss! Sav! Good morning." Derek looks well-rested, to say the least – energized, even happy. Ever so slightly, Savvy feels Weiss press an elbow into her side, non-verbal marital communication.

"Morning, Derek," Weiss says.

"Coffee?" He takes the mugs from their hands.

"Um … sure."

Derek leans in to kiss Savvy's cheek. "How'd you sleep?"

"I slept okay," she says.

Weiss exchanges a look with his wife.

"Lucy … you got some splainin' to do…" he murmurs, quietly enough that only she can hear.

.-.-.

"Turns out," Derek says, his tone undeniably cheerful as the wind moves his hair, reminding her of the time he talked her into going camping, "there's a trick to knowing sausages are done."

"And all you had to do was ask." Addison takes another bite; the texture is perfect, charred and tender all at once.

"He's a quick study," Cammie says, smiling. She turns her attention back to the blond toddler on her lap, who's wriggling to get down. "Have another bite, honey."

"Mama, I'm done too," the little girl next to them announces.

"Go and take your dishes to the crate then, Gracie, there are no elves here." She sends her on her way with a light tug of one of her pigtails, sets her toddler down and stands up, brushing crumbs off the legs of her lightweight pants. "Derek, you did a great job. Everything was delicious."

"They're your sausages," he reminds her.

"True. Harley, you stay close!" she orders quickly, snagging the back of her son's overall strap. She lifts him to her hip. "That firepit is hot," she reminds him, pointing. Then she sets him down again, calling for her daughter to take his hand, and they're off with the other children.

"They get so much independence here," Derek observes.

"They run around this island. We did the same as kids," Cammie says. "Come back to the hearth for meals or the boys'd come in and go fishing but lots of times we'd hardly see the grownups at all."

Addison can picture it easily, she's seen enough photos of Savvy as a girl, blonde and pigtailed with a mischievous little face and sparkling blue eyes. It's not hard to imagine her running up and down the sandy strips of beach or exploring the fields or waving reeds or the thickly wooded paths, most likely in a throng of four with Augie at her side, Beau and Bos not far behind. Addison knows Augie and Beau had siblings of their own, and they weren't excluded, but there was something about that tight foursome, from the very beginning.

She catches sight of the grown-up Savvy now, in conversation with several of her cousins. Watching the Beauforts repopulate the island feels poignant remembering Weiss's words about their wanting to start a family. It's easy to blink and see little copies of her closest friends running around this island with their family.

It can still happen, she reminds herself – even if it's differently from how they pictured it at first.

Sometimes, that's how the future is.

.-.-.

Somehow, the languid pace of the hearth post-breakfast feels normal now, even familiar. Derek isn't surprised as slow pockets of conversation break out, blonds of varying heights take their time moving dishes around, organizing cleanup, and sharing memories. Many of them center around Savvy's mother, some including her only tangentially as part of the wider web of Beauforts who belong to the island.

He's helping a tall couple stack tin bowls in preparation to be taken to the warehouse – he's fairly sure the male is one of Camden's brothers, though he's not sure which one. Weiss joked about having a chart to keep track of all of his in-laws, but Derek is starting to wonder whether it was a joke at all. "You're Addie's husband," the woman says to him as she hands him a series of flatware to sort. "Right?"

He nods.

"Wils told me about what you did the other night." She indicates her husband. "Pretty amazing."

He shrugs it off.

"In that storm, too. The weather's been strange this trip, hasn't it, honey?"

Wils, who seems to be a man of few words, also shrugs.

"I know there was that storm when y'all were kids, but …" her voice trails off. "Well, we folks who marry in need to stick together," she says to Derek with a smile. "They've practically got their own language."

Derek nods, slightly uncertain but also touched to hear this cousin-in-law so casually refer to Addison as if she's a blood member of their family.

It's something about the island, perhaps, its slow enfolding nature and how it seems to exist utterly separate from the rest of the world.

"Hey, Derek!"

His thoughts are interrupted by what can charitably be called a bellow from Savvy's brother.

"We're going out on the boat. You coming?"

He glances at Addison, who's sitting on the same rough-hewn bench where he left her, talking to Beau's wife.

"I don't know."

Boswell, who has Beau at his side, catches up to him. "Someone's got to feed the hordes. Don't you want to fish?"

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Is this so you can throw me in again?"

"You can't prove that," Bos says, but his eyes are twinkling.

Beau shakes his head. "It's all right. We could use another hand but I can take Junior."

"No, I can help. Let me just …" He gestures toward Addison.

 _Go_ , that's what she says. _Get out on the water. You love to fish._

"But are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asks it in a low voice, having pulled her aside, and now he glances at the scattered Beauforts remaining around the hearth.

"I am. Really."

"We'll keep an eye on her," Savvy assures him, strolling up to rest a hand on Addison's back.

Slowly, Derek nods. "I won't be long."

"Derek?" Addison searches his face for a moment. "Don't strain your shoulder out there."

He tests the movement of the joint again, puzzled. "It feels fine."

"Can I?" Her hands hover near him and he nods.

She manipulates his shoulder carefully with the hands of an expert clinician. He shivers slightly as her cool fingers slide into the neck of his shirt.

"Are you cold?" she frowns.

"No."

She takes her hands down, apparently satisfied. "Just be careful," she says.

"You be careful." His tone is light, but he can tell she knows that he means it by the way she nods.

.-.-.

"Looking at your watch in the middle of all _this_ ," Bos pronounces distastefully, casting an arm in a semicircle to indicate the vast waters around them. "Really?"

"Sorry." Derek lets the sleeve of his fleece fall over his watch again, embarrassed.

"Leave him be, Bos. He's just worried about Addie," Beau says, checking his line.

Bos glances at him as if he's waiting for him to deny it.

"She's fine," Derek says, somewhere between loyalty and defensiveness. "She is, she's just not great at taking it easy. And there's a lot going on, you know. I don't want to go back to the island and find she's on … house-building duty."

Beau actually grins. "House-building duty, huh? I'm gonna put that on the list."

"City folk love to say how hard it is to _take it easy_ ," Bos observes, his tone mild.

"It's different on the island, that's all," Beau says. He glances at Derek. "You're leaving tomorrow?"

 _Tomorrow._

It feels weeks away. Somehow it seems as though they've been on the island for long years and mere minutes, all at once.

Slowly, he nods, and sees the men exchange a glance.

"Addie's staying a little longer," Beau tells Bos, his tone unreadable, "to help Sav."

"Right." Boswell looks at Derek for a moment. "That was some rescue the other night," Bos says. He's focused on his line, turned away from Derek, so he can't see his expression.

Not sure how to respond, Derek lets it go, retreating into silence, letting the sun warm his hands as he waits for a bite on his line.

At least no one has pushed him overboard this time.

The other two men have moved on to talking about the conditions of the trip, punctuated by the occasional splashing of waterfowl. They keep their voices to a low murmur, not wanting to disturb the fish.

"Tatty took some of the boys out this morning," Beau is telling Bos. "They did all right – enough for lunch, even."

There's a note of pride in his voice.

"That's your son?" Derek asks.

Beau nods. "That's Junior, we call him Tatty but he's really Beau the fourth."

"The fourth." Derek raises his eyebrows. "You're the third?"

"I'm the third. Pop – that's Savvy's Uncle Jack – he's junior."

Derek takes it in. "Where does Tatty come from?"

"John Tattnall Beaufort," Beau recites. "The Tattnall's from the generation above our grandparents."

The variety of strange-sounding nicknames he's been hearing on the island are starting to make more sense. "And they all fish?"

Beau smiles. "I take the boys usually, but Tatt's getting old enough now to where he can take the smaller ones. Not too far out, mind."

"How old is he?"

"Thirteen now, Christopher's twelve, and Tucker's ten. We took a little breather before Isaac," he says ruefully.

Five in all. Beau notes Derek's expression.

" _His_ are twins." Beau gestures toward his cousin, serenely poising his rod in the water. "No breather there either."

"But we're stopping with two," Bos says, "not repopulating the earth like Beau over here."

Beau shoots back a retort and the two men josh each other in their way, now familiar to Derek, so much so that he doesn't take notice of their words until the ones directed to him.

"How come you don't have kids?"

It's such a blunt question and it shouldn't surprise him, not having been so immersed in island life, but it still does.

There's no delicacy about it.

He studies the two men across from him in the gently bobbing boat, who are waiting for his answer. They look interested. Serious. Not mocking at all.

"We've talked about it." Derek gazes out at the water. "My father taught me to fish," he says after a few long moments of silence. "We used to go out on the lake, and I always thought I would … "

His voice trails off.

He turns to Beau. "Your oldest, he's thirteen?"

Beau nods.

"I was thirteen when my father died," Derek says quietly.

Both men look solemn. "I'm sorry," Beau says, Bos nodding in agreement.

"Yeah." Derek adjusts his reel. "So am I." He leans back in the seat of the gently moving boat. "My mother did a good job. You know. She did the best she could."

He finds he can't continue, so he refocuses on his line.

"But she didn't fish," Bos prompts, his voice so gentle Derek almost doesn't recognize it.

"But she didn't fish," Derek echoes, and appreciates when Beau tactfully changes the subject.

"We've done pretty well for ourselves," Beau says after a while, studying their catches. "We should turn her around and head back. Derek's dying to check on Addie, I know."

He doesn't deny it, just help both men get the boat ready for its return trip. Then he pauses to take in the vast sunlit water with its sparkling surface gently bobbing beneath them. The silence other than the calls of birds and the little splash- _plunk_ of the fish. There are no other people or boats as far as the eye can see, like they're poised on the edge of the world.

"It really is beautiful out here," he admits, realizing that he's not likely ever to see this view again.

"It sure is," Beau says, starting to turn the motor, then pausing.

"I think you'd be a good one," he tells Derek abruptly.

Derek tilts his head, confused. "A good what?"

"Father," Beau says, turning the motor all the way now so the boat purrs back to life, and squinting out at the sunlit horizon. "I think you'd be a good father."

Derek swallows.

No one says much on the trip back; the water carries them toward the dock – Thompson dock; Derek is starting to learn the names of things just as he's preparing to leave.

 _Preparing_ , not prepared.

"Don't be so hasty," Beau scolds him when he pulls so hard on the catch box he nearly drops a fish back into the water. "You'll just make a mess of things."

"Is that an aphorism?" Derek frowns.

"It's a don't-waste-the-fish-I-just-caught-ism," Beau says.

Bos grins at Derek, then gestures with his thumb at Beau. "He's a little wise."

"Nah." Beau shoulders his tacklebox. "It's the island that's wise. I'm just smart enough to listen to it." He fixes his gaze on Derek. "Maybe _you_ should give it a shot."

Maybe he already has.

…

"Just drop 'em right in there." Lily points to the metal bowl she's carried with her down to the beach, and sets the basket of green peas down in the sand. Addison, who hadn't so much as boiled an egg before her first trip to the island, has to watch carefully, but she gets it. There's a certain soothing quality to it, a serenity even, as they sit on a blanket on the strip of soft empty sand, shelling peas to the rhythm of the waves.

Plus, the peas make a satisfying sound as they empty into the bowl.

"These'll be good in the stew tonight," Lily says, brushing a long strand of blonde hair away from her face. The island breeze keeps curling gently around them, moving the air in warm currents. "With the catch the boys bring in. It's all about blending, you know? Little of this, little of that."

Addison nods distractedly, looking out at the water. It's quiet out here, no one else in eyeline but gulls overhead and the smaller birds and insects that periodically express interest in what they're doing. Every once in a while, they hear a shriek of glee from down the shell beach, where she knows a great horde of Beaufort children are playing.

"Avery won't stop talking about your husband," Lily informs Addison with a smile. "I don't know that she's ever had so much fun at breakfast."

Addison returns the smile. Derek's ease with children, his sheer enjoyment of their enthusiasm and perspective, has always been something she loved. It was clear every time she saw him interacting with his sisters' children. "He's a practiced uncle," she tells Lily. "And he's, well, he's been away from the kids for a while."

Lily glances at her. "You're separated? You don't have to answer that," she adds quickly. "Sometimes I think I've been married to Beau so long I forget that not everyone's a Beaufort. Not everyone wants to talk plain. And you've been one of this family longer than I have."

She considers Lily's question.

 _Separated._ It's a strange word to describe two people who have spent much of the last twenty-four hours inches away from each other, but she's not sure of a better one.

She hasn't spent the same kind of time with Lily she has with Beau, but there's been something about her from the beginning that's made Addison feel like she knows her.

Slowly, she nods. "It's all right. Derek and I, we didn't want it to … interfere, on the island, you know, but yes … we're, um, we're living apart right now."

"If you don't mind my being honest … you _seem_ married."

"We are," Addison admits. She gazes out at the water. Lily's not wrong, but what she doesn't understand is that a decade and a half together means that closeness is habit. Derek's solicitousness since her collapse in the room at Reeds, his tenderness … she's been grateful for every moment of it even as it's tempered with disappointment that it's not more than remaining affection for her as a person. That, and muscle memory.

She glances at Lily. She's seen Beau brush a hand along his wife's hair every time he passes her, these days on the island – if they were to _separate_ , it would be a hard habit to break.

Except they wouldn't separate, she's fairly certain of that. Imagining Lily having an affair is so fanciful she can't even picture it. No, Addison's the one who tore the fabric of her own marriage. And now, Derek having to take care of her, after what she did to him, just isn't fair. Closing her eyes briefly, she lets the shame wash over her.

"Addie…?"

"I've made a lot of mistakes," she says quietly, opening her eyes to see Lily giving her a worried glance.

"People make mistakes."

"People make mistakes," Addison concedes, "okay, fine, but I make … messes."

"Messes can be cleaned up."

Addison recalls the piles of ruined clothing in the foyer, her own body curled between them in what passed for sleep that terrible night.

"Not all messes," she says grimly.

They return to shelling peas, the sunlight striping their hands and legs as they work. Addison focuses on the bright green vegetables in her lap. _When all else fails, keep your hands busy._

A fat bumblebee drones nearby, then leaves for sweeter pastures. Addison swipes a hank of hair out of her eyes, taking her hands off the basket of peas, and sees a gull hop over with interest.

"Get on, you," Lily commands, but she can't seem to help smiling when he snatches the shell from her hand and darts back toward the water. Another gull swoops down and attempts to yank the shell from the first one.

"I should be the bigger person." Addison strips the string from another pod and empties the peas into the metal bowl. "Let him go, and stop hoping he'll forgive me. But…"

"But you still love him," Lily says gently.

"But I still love him," she admits.

They go back to shelling peas, Addison grateful for the distraction as she deepens her breathing and coaxes the tears back inside her eyes where they belong.

"It can be hard," Lily offers, after a tactful silence.

Addison glances at her.

"Knowing when to hold on, and when to let go," the other woman elaborates.

Addison considers this. " _Sometimes love means wanting the other person to be happy, even if it's not with you._ " She glances at Lily's curious expression. "It's something my, uh, my mentor said, when I was a fellow. We were working on a case that … well, that part doesn't really matter. It's just something she said."

Lily nods, and Addison reaches for another handful of peas to shell.

Together, they watch the sea move in and then out again. Each wave washes over the shore in steady rhythm, holding onto the sand and then releasing it in time to curl back into the ocean.

The island seems to know when to hold on, and when to let go.

Why can't she?

* * *

 _ **To be continued. My babies have such a hard time making it happen but I believe in them. Even though they frustrate us, even though Addek's worst enemy is Addek. I hope you are enjoying the journey and I am excited to keep sharing this story with you. Please review and let me know what you think - I love to hear your thoughts and it's incredibly encouraging to me to get 19 up fast. And as always THANK you for reading and reviewing. xoxo**_

 _Title lyric from Shall We Gather at the River._

…


	19. no matter how rough may be the way

**_A/N:_ Okay, this one's on me. I didn't realize until I was re-skimming Chapter 18, looking for inspiration, that I told you I had written most of 19 already and would have it up in a week. The first part was true, anyway. But I needed to fill in some gaps and flesh out some things, and now here you go: Chapter 19. I am so grateful for your wonderful response to this story. It feels different to me from anything I've written before, so sometimes I feel hesitant, but your encouragement and enthusiasm keep me going. I hope you enjoy this long chapter!**

* * *

.-.-.

 _ **Some Bright Morning  
**_ _19\. no matter how rough may be the way_

.-.-.

* * *

" _I still don't know if I like the look of this place, Savannah. You know, if you had to go up north for college, there's always Wellesley … or Smith …."_

" _It's perfectly safe here, Daddy, I promise," Savvy assures him. She tucks a hand through one of his arms as they walk._

 _It's funny being here just off campus with her parents in this grey and rather grimy urban environment, so different from their usual. Her parents are the same though: her mama unruffled and beautiful as she strolls along next to Savvy's roommate, her daddy looking a bit too big for the sidewalk, teasing her with an easy laugh._

" _It's nice up here. Right, Addie?" Savvy prompts._

" _Right," Addison says quickly._

 _A man passes them on the sidewalk at just that moment reeking of alcohol and pauses to wolf-whistle loudly, leering at Addie and then Savvy in turn._

 _Savvy winces and Addison flashes her a quick grin; she can tell just as she has so often since they met only a couple months ago now that they're thinking the same thing: what timing!_

 _She can tell they're stifling matching laughter, too._

" _Ooh, look, it's all pretty now that the leaves are changing," Savvy tries to distract her father. "See? You won't get this many colors back home for a while."_

 _Addie, always a pal, chimes in: "The foliage is fantastic right now. You're visiting at the perfect time."_

 _Savvy's father glances around at the trees lining the square of green that makes up the park, the red and gold trees along its perimeter, and with what looks like some effort doesn't comment on the broken bottle he has to step over or the litter in the grass._

" _As long as you girls are careful," he says reluctantly, after shooting a glare at the drunk who passed them by. Savvy's just glad her big brother and her older cousin – who's been more like a second big brother all her life – aren't here; she wouldn't trust them not to chase the guy down._

 _Thankfully, her father moves on to talking to her roommate._

" _Tell me, Miss Addison, don't your mama and daddy worry about you living up here?"_

" _Well, um." Addie glances nervously at Savvy as they walk; she gives her an encouraging smile. "I'm … from Connecticut, actually, so … "_

" _So they're used to it," he says in a friendly manner. "Well. We sure are happy you're looking out for our girl, then."_

" _Daddy, I don't need Addison to look after me," Savvy says firmly._

" _Everyone needs someone to look out for them, darling," her mama interjects._

 _Addie looks amused; Savvy nudges her with an elbow. "We, um, we look out for each other," Addison says, and Savvy crosses her fingers hard in the pockets of her tweed fall coat that Addie leaves it general and doesn't mention, oh, last weekend when she had to hold Savvy's hair back practically the whole rest of the night after that party …_

" _Savannah tells me you'll be joining us for Thanksgiving, Addison." Her mama is talking now, thankfully, and she gives Addie a big smile._

" _Oh!" Addie's eyes widen. "She did, um, she mentioned it, but I don't want to impose."_

" _You're not imposing, dear. On the contrary, I insist."_

 _Addison is playing with the cuffs of her jacket and looking a little embarrassed. "I'd love to, then," she says quietly._

" _Good!" her father booms. "We wouldn't hear otherwise."_

 _Savvy shoots both parents a grateful look._

 _She's asked Addie to come for Thanksgiving a whole bunch of times already but she's been a little weird about it … like she's worried or something. But Savvy knows that even if her parents are a little protective sometimes, they're nothing if not welcoming. And, truth is, she's excited to bring Addie home. She wants Bos to meet her, and Augie, and Beau. Leaving Augie to go to college was hard – they've been best friends as much as cousins practically since Augie was born – but she's found herself sliding into fast friendship with her roommate that's made it easier than she could have imagined to live away from home. Augie sounded a little envious, last letter she wrote, but Savvy's mama promised both of them that going away to school, making new friends – maybe even getting married one day – wouldn't change anything with each other. After all, she and Augie are as close as sisters. And aren't her mama and Aunt Cece still best friends, just like when they were the tiny towheaded ones running around the island?_

 _Her mama is still talking to Addison. "And how are your classes going?"_

" _They're, um, they're going well, thank you." Addie smiles politely – she's polite to Savvy's parents, always, usually a little quiet, not like how she is when they're alone._

 _Her mama would probably say she's not used to quiet, not raising Savvy and Bos and having a hand in dozens of other loud Beaufort cousins._

 _For a moment there's silence, only the crunching sound of leaves under their boot heels. Savvy's mama nods encouragingly and Addison finally seems to realize that she's waiting for more detail._

 _A dam seems to break and words tumble out: how massive the biology and chemistry lectures seem after her small private secondary school, and how unforgiving the curve – "But she's still at the top of the class," Savvy cuts in proudly at this point – and how she hasn't met anyone outside of pre-med other than Savvy because it takes up so much time – "You'd better not meet anyone you like better than me," Savvy adds here._

" _I couldn't like anyone better than you!" Addie exclaims, and Savvy nods with satisfaction._

 _Savvy's mother tucks a hand through each girl's arm, hanging back a step from her daddy and lowering her voice. "Now. Has either of you met anyone special?"_

 _Savvy does everything she can not to roll her eyes – she manages, of course, because as her brother'd tell you, their mama doesn't stand for that. Luckily, her father intervenes._

" _Katie, don't ask them that in front of me!" he says indignantly._

" _You're right, honey … they're less likely to be honest." Her mama gives a mischievous smile._

" _That's not what I meant." Savvy's father frowns. "I just don't want to know."_

" _There's nothing to know on my account," Addie says glumly. "None of the boys in pre-med will do anything to sacrifice their grade point averages and I don't know anyone else."_

 _Savvy's mother glances at her._

" _Just because I'm not a scientist doesn't mean I have all the time in the world to date," Savvy says. "I happen to be concentrating on other things. I had an article in the Chronicle last week."_

" _We know, darling, it's on our refrigerator and Aunt Cece's too," her mother assures her._

 _Savvy's father is looking much happier now._

 _Addison and Savvy exchange an amused look. At least their nonexistent love lives make someone happy!_

 _Conversation drifts away from romance – or the lack thereof – as they crunch through fallen leaves. It smells smoky and autumnal, altogether collegiate._

" _It's just up around this way," Savvy says as they finish crossing the green. She's leading them toward the little café she and Addie like for their late-morning – okay fine, occasionally rather hungover – brunches of hot fragrant bread baskets and bottomless pots of black coffee._

" _You won't forget our invitation," her mother says firmly to Addison as they pause outside the steamy glass door._

" _No, thank you, Mrs. Sevier." Addie is blushing a little. "I won't."_

" _Savvy tells us you've already lined up an internship for the summer," her mama adds._

 _Addison's cheeks color more now. Savvy's well aware she's not used to bragging about herself. "Yes. Um, it's not much, just six weeks in the lab."_

" _That leaves a little time for relaxing, then, at least. You girls are working so hard."_

 _Savvy shoots Addison a knowing look. It's true – they do work hard, especially Addie, whose pre-med classes can't exactly get aced by winging it – but they also play hard, which her parents don't really need to hear._

 _Addison just nods._

" _You'll come and visit in the summer then, I hope. We'll be on the island in August."_

 _Addie nods again. "The island. That's your, um, your summer place?"_

" _Our summer place," her mother repeats, with a slow smile. "Yes … that's right. Savvy, darling, you must bring her." Her mama reaches an arm around Addison as they walk through the door into the warm and deliciously scented café. "I think she'd like it."_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

"Where's Addison?"

"Down at the shell beach with Lily," Camden assures him. She has a toddler on her hip and a basket of what smells like freshly baked bread in her free hand. "They'll be up in a minute. We already rang the bell." She glances from Derek to Bos and back again. "Did y'all catch anything good for lunch out there?"

"We caught a whole bunch of somethings good." Beau shows her their treasure and she whistles appreciatively.

"Derek caught the small ones," Bos says, his tone purposefully innocent.

"Derek caught the big ones," Derek corrects, not really minding the jostling. "But whatever you need to say to keep up your image…"

Beau laughs and slaps his cousin on the back. "You hear that, Bos?"

Bos scowls but doesn't seem particularly annoyed.

"Derek, you should tell her about the …"

But he doesn't catch the end of it so he never finds out what Bos wants him to tell Camden. He's distracted; he's caught sight of two faraway figures making their way up the partially cleared path toward the hearth, the smaller of them carrying something large in each arm. The taller one is reflecting sunlight in an orange-and-gold halo.

For someone who favored large sunglasses and even larger hats to protect her skin from the sun, Addison has always also managed to attract its rays. It's the color of her hair that does it, at least in part.

Derek watches them approach, barely noticing out of the corner of his eye and Beau leans in close to Boswell to whisper something.

"Ladies," Bos says grandly when they approach.

"Hey." Derek catches Addison's eye; she has color in her face, though how much is atypical sun exposure and how much is the bloom of health he's not sure.

"Here, let me take that." Bos reaches for one of the containers Lily's carrying, and Addison shifts uncomfortably.

"She shouldn't have carried both. I told her I'm fine to carry a basket of empty pea … things. They hardly weigh anything." Addison's voice is tight; Derek can tell it's because she's embarrassed at her perceived frailty. She's never been a fan of her own weakness, though she's more than tolerant – even embracing – of it in others.

"Lily's fine. She's stronger than she looks." Beau teases, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Yes, from carrying around all those big Beaufort babies." She flashes Camden a conspiratorial grin, which the other woman returns.

Lily holds onto the bowl when Beau reaches for it. "We've got it, honey. You go do your … fish."

"My fish," Beau repeats, sounding amused.

"Here." Lily gestures to Camden. "I'll trade you," she offers, smiling, and with some juggling, Camden ends up with a tin bowl of what look like freshly shelled peas and Lily ends up with a chubby, beaming toddler on her hip.

Lily gives the boy a squeeze, ruffles his blond curls, and then smiles up at Beau. "We haven't a little boy this small in so long," she says wistfully.

"Don't even think about it," Beau points a mock-fierce finger at her, then turns back to preparing the fish for lunch.

"You can keep that one," Camden offers brightly and Lily laughs.

"Don't tempt me, Cammie." She shifts the baby to her other hip.

As the Beauforts tease each other in cadence that's become familiar in his time on the island, Derek rests a hand on Addison's arm to take her aside as discreetly as he can.

"How are you feeling?" he keeps his voice quiet, aware of the risk he's taking.

"I'm fine." She gives him a very small smile. "How was fishing? You look dry."

"Yeah … I stayed in the boat this time."

"Nice work."

"Thanks." He glances toward the hearth, where numerous blond heads are bent over the wide stone surface preparing food. "I, uh, I didn't know you could shell peas."

"Savvy's mother would say … you never know what you can do until you try."

Derek smiles at this. Addison's eyes look far away, very bright in the overhead sun.

"Derek," she says quietly when she refocuses her gaze on him. "I was wondering – "

"Grub's up!"

He turns to see it's Camden who's called out the announcement, along with an emphatic tug on the rope that controls the old copper bell. At the loud clanging sound, Beauforts descend from all sides: the path Derek knows leads up to the cottages, the trail down to the dock, the half-cleared strip where Lily and Addison emerged, that must lead from the shell beach.

Savvy and Weiss are among them, and before he can blink Addison and Savvy are feet away with their heads bent close, talking, their long hair mingling.

"I guess we won't see them for the rest of lunch," Weiss says cheerfully, glancing at Derek. It's a phrase they've exchanged many times before, at many gatherings. Savvy and Addison have their own history, he knows this – predating him, even predating Weiss, who knew both women before Derek did.

Lunch is served in riotous yet somehow efficient style, older children helping younger ones and adults looking out for the older relatives and the babies alike.

Derek waits to take a tin bowl until the others have been served, and when Camden and a blond man whose name he can't remember dole out sizzling fish atop a pile of bright vegetables, tossing a hunk of freshly baked bread on top, he suddenly realizes that he's starving.

He sits down on one of the rough-hewn log benches without thinking too much about it – Addison is across the way, still deep in what appears to be private conversation with Savvy.

"Can't get enough of us, huh?"

He glances up from his bowl to see Bowell and Beau sitting side by side on the bench not a foot away from him.

"In my defense … I was hungry," he admits.

"That's not much of a defense." But Bos's expression is mild. Beau gets up in short order to go help Lily wrangle some of the children and dishes in turn, and it's just the two of them.

Derek refocuses on his bowl, and then glances up to notice that the two children he saw Boswell and Casey with that night in the shelter, even though he didn't know who Casey was at the time, are sharing a plate with the little girl he recognizes as Augie's daughter.

Bos follows his gaze. "They barely talk to us on the island," he says with a smile. "My two. They're glued to Minna and – where is she?" he glances at Beau. "And Beau's Avery. They're a little gang. But I can't complain, not really, not when we were just like that."

Bos's daughter jogs up just then, as if she could tell they were discussing her. "Daddy! We're going down to the shell beach now. Papa said to tell you."

"Are you, now?"

"Yeah. We are." She giggles. "We'll clean our stuff up first."

"You better." Bos wraps an arm around her and she leans against him, the salty breeze lifting tangled blonde curls. Then he turns to Derek. "This is Shelby," he says, giving her a little squeeze. "Shelby, say hi to Mister Derek."

"Hi," she says, and when she smiles he sees she's missing one of her top teeth.

"Hi, Shelby." Derek smiles at her. "How old are you?"

She holds up six fingers.

Bos nudges her. "Don't make me tell the tooth fairy you forgot your manners."

Shelby giggles, baring her teeth at her father, then turning back to Derek. "I lost a tooth!" she tells him proudly, and he expresses the appropriate amount of enthusiasm.

Bos kisses her and gives her a gentle push away from the benches. "Go on, then. And you watch out for Minna and Avery," he adds, "they're smaller than you."

"I know! I will." She brushes blonde hair out of her face, offering them a little wave before she runs off to join the others.

Derek watches the children move their bowls and flatware into the rinsing bins and then take off in a small herd, presumably toward the shell beach, one small boy flanked by three girls.

"They're twins," Bos says, also watching, "Shelby and Jackson, but he's a little shy. Shel's his advocate."

"She looks like you," Derek observes.

"Excuse me, I have all my teeth," Bos frowns.

Another voice interrupts before Derek can respond.

"Bos … be nice to Derek."

Both men glance up.

"I was being nice," Boswell protests, lifting his hands.

Addison is shading her eyes from the sun, standing above them, her long hair hanging down on either side and creating a sort of tunnel effect. Derek tilts his head up to see her.

"He actually was being nice," Derek confirms, "but I'm as surprised by it as you are."

"Well, if you two are going to gang up on me, then I'm going to find something else to do." Bos says it without any resentment at all, standing up and brushing his hands off on his shorts. "Addie, I'll see you later." He drops a kiss on her cheek. "And Derek …"

He looks up.

"You made some good catches today," he says, and walks off before Derek can respond.

"Don't tell me you two are friends now." Addison takes the seat Bos vacated; she's looking at him uncertainly, but there's a hint of a smile in her eyes.

"No island is _that_ magical, Addison."

She smiles fully now, but then her face turns pensive again.

"Derek … I was thinking, um, maybe we could take a walk," she says hesitantly. "There are some parts of the island I could show you, maybe the shell beach, and …" Her voice trails off.

Slowly, he nods. Sitting next to her, with the glare off her face, he can read the exhaustion in her eyes. "I'd like you to rest, though," he says, his tone careful.

"I can rest. We could walk first, and then rest. I mean, if you want to."

"I do want to," he says, realizing it's true.

The light in her eyes changes, from tired to hesitantly hopeful to … something else.

And he realizes what he has to do.

"I just need a few minutes. There's, uh, there's something I need to do first," he says quietly. "Can you wait for me?"

"I can wait for you."

.-.-.

"I didn't think I'd catch you," he admits as he walks between the reeds with the river lapping in the near distance, his blackberry in one hand. There's a faint scrabbling sound at his feet – creatures, making the island home.

"You didn't catch me," Meredith corrects him. "I answered the phone."

Her tone is light, but there's something behind it. Or maybe it's that she had already started to sound familiar in Seattle but she seems far away now, her inflections unrecognizable.

"How … are you?" he asks, hearing how stiff his own voice sounds.

Has it really only been days? It feels like forever since they've spoken.

"I'm fine, Derek." She sounds patient now. Polite. "How's your friend?"

"She's okay, considering. The, uh, the funeral was yesterday."

 _Funeral_ seems like such a stark, colorless term for what the Beauforts did on the boat, but he can't think of a word for that.

And he's not sure she could understand if he did. Not without being here.

"Derek …"

"I'm married."

He blurts the words, surprising himself a little, even if it's what he knows he needed to tell her … and then waits, listening to her breathing.

"You're married," she repeats. "You're _married_? Seriously?"

"I'm separated," he corrects. "I was separated when I moved to Seattle."

"But you're not separated now …?" Meredith prompts.

A dozen images assail him, sight and senses: Addison leaning forward to kiss him on the marriage bench in Red Fox, her laughing lips tasting of white lightning; Addison resting against him in the bed at Reeds; Addison leaning into him in the outdoor shower, fragrant hot water pulsing around their joined bodies; Addison wrapped in his arms in the slippery spring on Goat's Head.

"I, uh, I'm not really sure," he admits.

"Derek…"

Meredith sounds like she's losing patience.

"She's here," Derek says, clarifying.

"Your wife," Meredith prompts.

He nods, then remembers he's on the phone and she can't hear him. "Yes."

Silence.

"Look, you have every right to be angry – " he begins.

"I'm not angry."

"You're not?"

"I'm disappointed," she says.

He's been married long enough to know that's worse.

"You made me a cheater, Derek," she continues. "And you didn't give me a say in it. And you acted like I was pushy for asking you questions about your life. Any questions about your life! Okay … maybe I am a little angry."

Her tone is open, honest, and regret washes over him.

He and Addison and Mark, they knew what they were doing. They were acting sometimes, _re_ acting other times, but they knew.

Meredith, though? She didn't ask for any of this.

"I'm an idiot," he says for lack of anything better.

"Well, I'm not going to argue with that."

For long moments, they breathe.

"So … I'm going to go," Meredith says.

"Wait," he protests.

"I'm an intern, Derek. I don't get a lot of time for personal calls and this one – well, it hasn't exactly brightened my day."

"I'm sorry."

"I believe you," she says, "it just doesn't matter much, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind." He hears her pause. "So does this mean you're … I mean, _are_ you coming back to Seattle?"

"I have a ticket," he says. "I have a job."

She's silent again.

"Meredith … you don't deserve this."

"You don't get to decide that."

Her voice is strong now, almost cold, and he's surprised.

"I just meant – "

"I know what you meant."

"Look, I was just trying to say – you saved me," he says quietly, wanting her to know he never meant to lie, to take advantage. "I was at the lowest point I've ever been, when I got to Seattle, and you…"

"I what? _Saved_ you?" she sounds incredulous. "That's not a thing! You should have told me you were married, Derek," she adds, and her voice shakes slightly. "That night in the bar, before any of the rest of it. I should have known."

"It was over," he says, knowing it sounds like an excuse. "That night, in the bar. My marriage was over, and I thought I'd never see her again."

"And what do you think now?" Meredith asks pointedly.

Before he can answer, he hears a rustling in the reeds and turns.

Addison is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of her rain jacket. His lips part; no words come out, and she doesn't meet his eye.

And then, before he can utter a sound, she's turned and she's gone.

 _Damn it._

"Derek?"

He hears his name from the phone in his hand, which has dropped to his side.

"Yeah." He replaces the phone at his ear, realizing he owes it to her to finish the conversation because he goes to find Addison. "I'm here."

"You sound confused," Meredith says quietly.

"I know."

"And I'm not your savior, Derek."

"I know that too."

He pictures her for a moment. He sees her tangled hair, her wide cat's eyes, leaning over him in bed that last night in Seattle.

"Meredith … I'm so sorry."

"Yeah." She exhales into the phone. "I'm sorry too."

He knows this sketch of her face is good-bye.

.-.-.

Addison stumbles through the reeds, feeling the island sun on her skin like a burn. Derek's words echo through her head. He didn't know she was there. He wasn't trying to hurt her. He was just … saying things.

He was saying that this woman in Seattle saved him.

She saved him.

She made him happy.

Her old mentor Vivian's words, the ones she repeated to Lily at the shell beach, fill her ears. _Sometimes love means letting the other person go … wanting them to be happy, even if it's not with you._

Suddenly nauseated, she drops to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She crouches in the reeds for long moments, listening to water, the calls of the gulls, and tasting regret.

Meredith … the intern she can't picture, a smooth blank face with a long ponytail and scrubs … she put Derek back together.

After Addison broke him.

She studies her empty hands in front of her, the bands of gold on her left fourth finger. The hands she spent years training have always been a bit oversized, her whole life, like a puppy growing into its paws. The nanny was forever scolding her about her clumsiness. _Don't touch, Addison, you'll break it. Don't touch if you can't be careful. Honestly, Addison!_

That was what she did: she broke things.

She broke _him_.

And she shouldn't be allowed to touch him anymore.

With shaking hands, she dials the familiar number. She hates herself a little, but it's numbing. Almost soothing, almost pleasant. And if anyone would understand that … it's him. He's the only person she knows as disgusted by himself as she is by herself. It can't be that strange, then, that she sometimes feels like they're in this together?

"Addison." His rumbling voice sounds like it's laughing. "You're alive."

The words sting a little … but he has no idea what he's missed, of course.

"I'm alive," she echoes.

"So that means you and Derek haven't killed each other yet, huh?"

"No … well." She traces some sand with her toes, feeling the different sensations against her skin of soft grains and scratchy feathers from the omnipresent reeds. "There's not really anywhere on the island to hide a body."

"Except the ocean."

"Mark."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're okay out there though, right?"

She closes her eyes briefly, sees the strange white hospital room where she woke with Derek at her side, his hand on her face, the doctor telling her what happened. Then she's crouched in the bathtub in the room at Reeds – she remembers it in fits and starts, the blood, and the pain, and the fear. Losing the pregnancy she didn't know she was carrying. And she remembers the shattering of the door and Derek leaning over her, the way the water rocked the boat in the storm all the way to the mainland. And the way the island welcomed them back.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "I'm okay."

"I miss you, Addison."

She stares at the sun starting to sink behind the marsh, her stomach hollowing out at his words. She doesn't say, _you don't miss me, you miss being distracted._ She doesn't say, _I'm like a drink to you, nothing more, enough of me and you forget._ She doesn't say, _I get it because you do the same thing for me._

She doesn't say any of it.

She says: "I'm only here for a few more days."

"And then you're coming back."

When she doesn't answer, he says it again. "You _are_ coming back, aren't you, Addison?"

A bird calls out gently, skimming low near the waves and then rising freely again; she watches with a trace of envy as it circles high in the sky, unencumbered by anything.

"Addison?"

She turns her attention back to the phone. "Where else would I go?" she says finally.

The phone is still warm in her hand, folded up, after the call is over.

Alone, she watches the water for a while until she senses that someone is watching _her._

Slightly unnerved, she turns around to see Savvy standing a few feet away on the beach with her arms folded.

"Sav." Addison turns quickly to cover the sandy distance between them. "I'm sorry, were you looking for me?"

"No," Savvy says, "but I found you anyway. So I guess I must have been looking for you ... you know, on some level. I just didn't think I'd find you talking to Mark."

Addison blinks. "How did you-"

"Give me some credit."

Chastened, she kicks a bit at the grains under one sandaled foot. "Sav…"

"Come on, Addie," Savvy shakes her head, "you have _got_ to stop running to Mark every time you feel insecure about Derek."

"I wasn't …"

"Yeah, you were. I know you. And you don't have to admit it to me, but I hope you can admit it to yourself before it's too late."

Addison chews on her lip, considering it. For years, she's trusted Savvy to know her like few do. To be a mirror of the last shared twenty years of their lives.

"He was talking to her on the phone," she says quietly.

"Who was?"

"Derek. To his … intern."

"So that's why you called Mark? An eye for an eye?"

"No, Sav, it's not like that." She tries to think of a way to make Savvy understand. She can't _really_ understand, of course. Not when Weiss has always shown up.

He's never left her alone.

He's never made her feel like –

"What, then? Addie?"

"Derek was nice to me," Addison says slowly, "when I needed him. Here, on the island … but that doesn't mean … it doesn't change things."

"When he risked his life to get you to the mainland – and maybe saved yours? He was more than _nice_ , he was your knight in shining armor."

"For one night," Addison says softly, directing her memories away from what it felt like to wake up in the unfamiliar hospital bed next to his reassuring presence. "And then he pushed me away again."

She closes her eyes briefly and recalls standing in the stream of hot water after she was released from the hospital, the overpowering scent of the teak, steam rising. His warm lips contrasting with the cool skin of his face. The moment he held her so closely they were almost one again … and the moment he backed away.

And his words: _We shouldn't._

She can't blame him for not wanting her to touch him.

Not after she broke him.

"Addie," Savvy is looking at her when she opens her eyes. "Did you talk to him about it?"

She doesn't answer.

Savvy draws a long, audible breath. "Look, during the ritual, Ad, at the spring and after too. You were – you seemed so close … and you know it's not everything, you have to do the work too, but it's not nothing either."

"Savvy…"

" _Addison._ Listen to me.I love you," Savvy says evenly, "and I will love you no matter what happens with Derek or Mark but I will be very disappointed if you can't figure out what to do here."

"Derek doesn't want me," she whispers. "You weren't there, he … you weren't there."

"But if you know you want _him_ , why aren't you talking to him? Why aren't you calling Derek instead of Mark?"

"Because … because … he left me, Sav." She pushes her hair behind her ears. "He left me alone."

"Addison," Savvy sounds very serious, "I know I don't need to remind you what kinds of decisions you've made in the past because you haven't wanted to sleep alone."

She takes a step back, pulse fluttering at her throat. "Savvy." Her voice is shaking. "That's not fair … you said you wouldn't …"

"I'm not," Savvy assures her, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. "I would never throw that in your face, but I really hoped you'd … taken something from that."

Addison stares out at the water. The sun is making its curving way back toward the sea, slowly. Everything happens in due time on the island, isn't that what the Beauforts say? She traces, with her eyes, the same arc the sun will, down to the calm surface of the water. When she turns back her vision is darkened, Savvy's face shimmering.

"Look, Addie, I like Mark, I do. I've known him almost as long as you have at this point. He's fun and he recommended a great plastic surgeon when my partner in the DC office needed reconstructive surgery, and I know that even though he acts like he goes to Central America every year to pick up chicks he's actually operating on cleft palates, and he won't even let them put him in the brochure. He's not a bad guy. Maybe he's even a good guy. But that doesn't mean that he's a good guy _for you._ "

"Mark's never left me alone," she says softly.

"Has he ever been _with_ you?" Savvy shakes her head. "Then how could he leave you? Ad, you can't compare a couple months of sex to eleven years of marriage."

"Derek's doing the same thing," she blurts. "He's dating an intern and …"

"… and _Derek_ is the one you should be talking to about this." Savvy stares for a moment. "You didn't ask for my advice but you're getting it anyway. Stop calling Mark, Addie, unless it's to tell him you're done talking to him."

"Savvy-"

"No. Mark's not a backup plan for Derek and Derek's not a backup plan for Mark. And you deserve more than a backup plan. Which one of them is offering you that?"

She doesn't answer.

"By the way, you can pick _neither._ You can take some time to heal and I'll support you, Addie, but _this_ …" she gestures, "… whatever it is that you're doing, this has to stop."

"You don't understand," she bleats.

"No. The problem is that I _do_ understand, and you don't want to hear it. You're making it worse for yourself. Mark's not a band-aid. And your marriage needs a hell of a lot more than a band-aid anyway."

"Don't hold back, Sav."

"I won't." She raises her chin. "I don't think I was helping you when I was holding back. And I don't know if it's Mama just … reflecting off the island or if you need a talking-to so badly that I'm channeling her, but if you keep this up, Addison, it's not the wind that's going to knock the cell tower down next time."

She stops talking and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Addison says softly.

"You don't need to apologize to me, honey. I'd be happy if you'd just hear me."

"I do hear you. But it's … not that simple, Sav."

"It is," she says insistently. "It's painful, it's … scary, but it's still simple."

"You really think so?" Addison pauses, worrying the filmy material of her sundress for something to do with her hands.

Savvy takes her hand. "You and Derek … you were always meant to be."

"Yeah, until I screwed everything up."

"And maybe you can fix it."

"What if I can't?"

"You won't know unless you try, Addie. Really try."

She glances out toward the water. They were going to walk to the shell beach. _I can wait for you_ , that's what she said.

"I think … I do need to talk to Derek," Addison admits softly.

"Oh, honey, I thought you'd never say it." Savvy hugs her carefully, then more tightly when Addison wraps her own arms around her friend.

She pulls back, and then Savvy reaches out to tuck long strands of hair behind her ears.

Her gaze is so intense that Addison doesn't hear footsteps in the reeds and glances up, surprised, at his voice.

"Hey." Derek looks from one of them to the other. "I've been looking for you." He scans Addison's face. "Are you okay?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"Everything's fine, Derek," Savvy says. "We're fine. I was just leaving. Addie … think about what I said, okay?" She steps forward and kisses her on the cheek. "I'll see you a little later."

Addison watches her blonde head get smaller and smaller as she strides across the sand and then heads down the path, covering the varying terrain island of the island like someone who's been coming here her whole life. Then she turns back to Derek. He's still there, studying her face.

"Look, Addison, I'm not sure how much you heard, before, but you should know that – "

"It's fine." She waves a hand, dismissing it.

He frowns a little.

"Really, Derek. I'm not exactly in a position to complain." She smiles, with her lips at least.

"Okay." He studies his hands for a moment. "So you – understand."

She nods.

"It was an … overdue conversation."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you had it."

"Yeah. It was time." He's studying her face now. "Do you still want to take that walk?"

"I do," she says slowly, "but there's something _I_ need to do first."

"Okay." He pauses. "I can wait."

"No, I, um, I need to do it with you." She tucks her hair behind her ears, looking for a distraction, but knowing she needs to face it all the same.

His expression is curious.

"I need to talk to you."

"Sure. Okay." He looks almost relieved, waiting for her to speak and looking confused when she doesn't. "Addie …?" he prompts finally.

She takes a deep breath, realizing how much is riding on his answer. "No, I mean like … _really_ talk."

.-.-.

 _Really talk._

For a moment the two words hang in the air. He can't quite parse them, so he just repeats them.

"Really talk …?"

Addison nods.

"There are things I need to tell you," she explains softly. "Things I haven't told you, about … what happened two years ago."

"I talked to Weiss," he reminds her, wanting to spare her having to relive the details.

Maybe spare both of them.

"I know." She inhales shakily and he finds himself taking a half step closer to her. "But there's, um, a part of the story that Weiss doesn't know. Or Savvy," she adds.

Derek takes this in, surprised. He takes a deep breath … and takes responsibility. "There's a part of the story you don't know, too," he admits quietly.

Addison blinks; now she looks surprised. "Oh. Well, I guess we both need to … really talk, then."

All he can do is nod.

She leads the way down the path; he follows a step behind, watching her familiar gait with its long, loping steps. They're accustomed, in the past, to matching each other stride for stride. But he lingers a little – maybe in anticipation of the conversation, or maybe in case she falters. More than once he finds a hand rising slightly toward her, brushing the air near her back or shoulder, but she maintains both speed and balance all the way back to Reeds.

She stops outside the door to Red Fox.

Slowly, she turns and sinks into the porch swing. "Do you mind?" she asks quietly. "I kind of … want to be outside right now."

He understands the urge. The air feels more than fresh here; it's like a living thing, green and growing. The sun is tracking toward the water, announcing the hours left in the day, and without its penetrating glare from above, it's cooler, crisp.

"You're not too cold?"

She shakes her head, and he lowers himself onto the swing beside her.

Neither of them speaks for long moments, taking turns pushing off the weathered patio floor with one foot, the only sounds the creaking of the old swing and the background noise of the island: moving water, chirping birds, scurrying creatures.

"Remember the swing at the house?" Addison asks finally, breaking the silence. Her voice is soft.

"The house with the yard?"

"No, not that house. The other one, the house in Montauk."

"With the shingles," he recalls.

"And the big swing."

He tilts his head slightly. "Wasn't it a hammock?"

"Maybe it was a … hammock swing." She pauses. "Is there such a thing as a hammock swing?"

"Sure," he says, "it's what we had at the house in Montauk."

"That's circular," she protests.

"So's the island," he says, like he's heard Savvy and her family say, and sees something warm flicker in Addison's eyes.

"Anyway, the swing at the house …"

Somehow as they reminisce they've shifted, too, against the other side of the swing like he remembers her doing at the rented house in Montauk, drawing her legs up on the swing.

"That was a good house," he says.

It was small, smaller than the house they rented the next year and significantly smaller than the one they eventually bought in Easthampton.

The current house has more room than they need but it will _appreciate_ , that's what the realtor said, glowing with the anticipated sale,and the jewel-bright bean of a pool with its scattered loungers would be perfect for entertaining.

Less so for sitting empty.

He has a sudden and surprising longing for that small, modest house, the one with the hammock-swing.

"Derek," she asks tentatively, "do you remember Savvy's toast at our wedding?

He nods.

"When she, um, when she said we were meant to be?"

He nods again. He remembers every moment of that night through a champagne haze – he had barely a sip but he was drunk on youth and love and handfuls of lace, the overpowering scent of the flowers in her bouquet. It flavored everything, down to her skin; the tear he kissed away after Savvy's speech tasted of roses.

Now Addison takes her lower lip between her teeth; after a moment he brushes his thumb lightly against her mouth, prompting her to release it.

"When were on the island, the first time … Savvy found a starfish," she says slowly.

"She made a wish," Derek proposes.

Addison nods.

"She wished for me to find someone … good." Addison head dips; she looks almost bashful. "Someone who wouldn't hurt me. She wished it and she threw the starfish back in the water."

"Give to get," Derek repeats slowly, remembering Addison's words when she explained the starfish tradition to him.

 _And if it's meant to be, it will come true._

"Right." Her mouth twitches. "She didn't tell me then. You know, when she made the wish. It's supposed to be just between you and the sea. So, um, then I started medical school, and I met you, and – well, you remember they were protective and they checked you out and then Savvy, she told me what she wished for on the island."

She stops speaking for a moment, looking lost in the memory. Derek touches her hand lightly, reorienting her, and she gives him an apologetic half-smile, a quirk of her mobile mouth too sad to be called a real smile.

"She said that it was meant to be. And to me, you know, she said that you were the one she wished for, who wouldn't hurt me."

"I have hurt you, though," he says quietly.

"Not on purpose," she shakes her head. "Not like I did, not like – "

Her voice breaks.

"Addison." He touches her hand. "It's been a long day; you didn't really sleep last night. You're still recovering…"

"I'm okay." She takes a deep breath.

"I know." He moves his hand slightly to cover hers; it feels cool. "You should get some rest, though, Addie."

"I will, but … I need to keep talking. There's more."

Hesitantly, he nods.

"Was that the part of the story I didn't know?" he asks gently. "The starfish?"

She shakes her head.

"Tell me," he says quietly.

"The day I saw … Ethan … at the hospital," she starts, her voice low, "and Weiss came to get me at the bar and …"

"I know which day you mean," he assures her. It's burned in his memory now, reanimated.

The day he let her down, and Weiss and Savvy were there for her, understood how traumatic was the shock of seeing her violent former boyfriend for the first time after almost twenty years.

He sees a flicker of shame in her eyes, coloring the reminiscence, and waits patiently, his hands still resting on her legs, for her to start speaking again.

"That day," she repeats, "… it wasn't actually the first time I saw him."

He blinks, surprised. "But Weiss said –"

"Weiss doesn't know. Neither does Savvy. I didn't tell them." She's gazing out past the dock, he can tell, toward the water. "I didn't tell anyone."

His quiet, not sure what to say.

She glances at him. "Derek, you said there was a … part you hadn't told me too."

There is, one that makes him feel faintly nauseated to consider while they're sitting so close together that they're breathing in tandem, the rhythmic flexing of his foot rocking them both at once.

But he's decided she needs to know, so he just nods.

She's toying with the weather-beaten fabric of the swing cushion; he takes her hand in his once again, careful to avoid –

"Your burn," he says, confused. "It's gone."

Addison turns her hand within his, not looking particularly surprised.

Lightly, he probes the skin with his thumb. It shouldn't have healed fully, not yet.

 _The spring._

Sulfur, he tells himself. Minerals, not magic. His fingers skim over the smooth, unmarred skin of her hand.

"I want to hear," she says softly, "what you wanted to tell me. I think I should go first, though."

"Okay."

"Yeah." She looks down at their joined hands. "I wish it were that simple."

"Maybe it could be. You could just … tell me," he encourages gently.

"I want to." She swallows; he sees the long column of her throat move. "I wanted to then too, Derek, I did. But it's the same problem, you know, I just don't really know how to start," she admits.

…or whether he would listen.

She doesn't say that part; he hears it anyway.

"I'm listening now," he says quietly, shifting the position of their hands so that his warmer one surrounds hers completely. "You could just … start."

She draws a long, deep breath, as if she's taking in everything around them.

And then she starts.

* * *

 _To be continued. I won't make you wait too long. You guys are amazing - several of you predicted or anticipated things in this chapter that I wrote months ago in my outline. There are parts of this chapter I've been waiting to share with you, even though I know Addison and Derek continue to dance in their Addek way, forward, back, left, right, not quite together, never apart - they're circular, and frustrating, and I love them. And I think you're going to like where they end up, so please grab a lifejacket, don't let the guys push you overboard, and stay for the ride. Thank you so much for reading and please review - reviews are the three rivers beneath my boat!_


	20. and our spirits shall sorrow no more

**A/N: Second verse, same as the first: it's been way too long since I've updated, so here's a nice long(ish) chapter to get you back (I hope) in the mood for the island. I mercifully split it into two chapters, but that means the next one is coming very soon. So. I'm very attached to this story and so appreciative for those of you who've been reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know it's been a while, so if you recall the last chapter ended with Derek and Addison about to talk about what prompted her last trip to the island, two years ago...so here goes:**

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _20\. a_ _nd our spirits shall sorrow no more_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

" _Dr. Shepherd? I have the labs."_

" _Good." Addison frowns as she reads. "One-point-three?" She closes the chart. "It shouldn't be going up."_

" _Does that mean we can't operate today?" The intern – who looks about twelve – is brightly eager, shifting from foot to foot. He gets paged before Addison can respond and she watches him lope off, practically skipping, remembering her own eager intern year and feeling rather old._

 _Addison shakes her head, gesturing for the resident left behind to follow her. "Lopez did a good job," she says as they round the corner. "If he's on call tonight, we can check and – "_

 _She freezes._

 _The recognition is so sudden, so unexpected – so utterly out of place – that at first she's certain she imagined it._

 _She sees him, he doesn't see her. But it's enough for her head to spin._

 _She hasn't imagined it though. Not for a long time – years. She used to, sometimes. That cologne he used to wear – Jaguar, he was loyal to it._

 _Sandalwood and patchouli – she never liked those scents after that, and picking up their notes would sometimes bring her back with a flash._

 _Especially at the beginning._

 _There was the first time Derek playfully pinned her arms over her head. Years ago. Decades, even. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, so thoroughly that she didn't believe until Savvy swore on her mother's life that her brother hadn't killed him._

 _She retraces the corner to press against the wall, gathering breath, ordering herself to get it together._

 _It's been twenty years._

 _This is my hospital, my territory, she recites. I'm respected here. I'm a professional._

 _She draws another breath, attempting to count to five._

 _Derek would understand, if she told him, and for a moment she conjures him in front of her, letting his presence reassure her._

 _Except that one flash of smirking face is enough to make the comforting visual melt away._

" _Dr. Shepherd?"_

" _Dr. Cross." She forces a smile._

" _Is everything all right?" Her resident looks nervous._

" _Everything's fine." Addison closes the chart. "Follow my dosing instructions and page Dr. Khalid if you have any questions."_

" _Oh … okay." The resident looks confused, tilting her head so her ponytail falls diagonally._

 _Addison keeps her gaze straight ahead as she walks out of the hospital._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

"I should have told you," she says quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"You're telling me now," he offers, then pauses. The swing creaks gently as it moves back and forth. "Was I – that night, when you saw him, I mean …?"

She recognizes what he wants to know: _was I there?_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

 _She dials his number again while she folds the little cocktail napkin into a precise damp square._

" _Sorry, Addison." Derek's receptionist is sympathetic. "He hasn't put one toe outside his office since his last patient. I can interrupt him if you need – "_

" _No, it's fine, Cheryl. Thank you. You can just – tell him I called."_

 _The next message she leaves directly. "If you're wondering why I'm not at the hospital … I wasn't feeling great, so I left."_

 _She feels pathetic the moment she finishes the message. Manipulative, like Derek has described her in the past. Passive-aggressive._

 _At least it's early enough that the spaces around her are empty._

 _Maybe she can erase the message. That's a thing, right? If the technology doesn't exist … it should._

 _This is what she's thinking as she drains her second glass._

 _And her third._

 _She stops counting at four._

" _Addie – did you save any for us?" Savvy slides in next to her on the barstool. She flashes a grin, she smells fresh and cold like the outdoors, but Addison sees her exchange a look with her husband._

 _Weiss flanks her other side. "Let's get something to eat, huh, Addie?"_

" _I'm not hungry." She smiles at her friends, or at least she thinks she does. Her lips haven't quite been working right, not today._

 _She turns to Savvy. "Do you know how to delete a voicemail?"_

" _Delete a voicemail?" Savvy looks confused. "What do you mean?"_

" _You know … a voicemail." She gestures vaguely toward her phone._

" _You hiding evidence?" Weiss teases her gently, but he also looks confused._

" _It's just … something a patient said," she lies._

 _Savvy and Weiss exchange another look across her. She knows what they're doing. She's married, and they can speak without words too. Or at least they used to._

" _Addie," Savvy says tentatively, though she seems sort of far away, "what's wrong? Did something happen?"_

 _She gives a vague excuse about a patient – convenient, when you work so close to tragedy; there's always a believable excuse. When Savvy and Weiss nod sympathetically she just feels worse._

 _Lying to Savvy – she's never done that before._

 _But when her lips purse with the possibility of telling them what she saw, she can't do it. That's a chapter of their history that's closed, forever._

 _Weiss moves the drink ever so slightly away from her. "Burgers," he says. "I need a burger. And I'm pretty sure dinner was the plan here. Sav?"_

" _Definitely." Savvy's tone is hearty, and she wraps an arm around Addison's shoulder. "Let's go uptown, Ad. Derek can meet us."_

 _His name is a surprise. Was he supposed to meet them that night? Now she can't remember._

" _I'll call him," Weiss offers, as Addison lets herself be led numbly toward the door._

 _She could tell Derek. She could tell him._

 _If she tells him, if he understands …_

 _But what if she tells him, and he doesn't?_

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

"I wasn't there," he says.

"You didn't come home that night," Addison says quietly. Her voice is matter-of-fact with no undertone of guilt. "Your patient crashed. Weiss and Savvy, they, uh, brought me home and stayed for a while and after they left …"

Her voice trails off.

"I called out the next day."

"You never call out," he says automatically.

"Yeah." She flexes her hands. "I did that day."

"Did he – did you see him again?" Derek asks.

"Not for a while. A few weeks – two months, maybe. I sort of thought I'd imagined it."

Though imagining it once must have been enough to haunt her, as some of the puzzle pieces slide into place for him. She was mopey, edgy. Angry and clinging all at once.

 _Don't expect me to drop everything if you decide you've had too much._

Their well-stocked liquor cabinet dwindled more quickly than usual.

 _What exactly was I supposed to do if I did come home?_

Her tolerance had always been higher than his, and he convinced himself that was all.

 _You seem fine now, so you can't have been that … sick._

He didn't ask, though.

 _I trust you to take of yourself. You do have a medical degree._

The raw edges of her were only for him, then, so if he didn't go home he didn't see them. In the hospital she was perfectly polished, as always.

 _I didn't ignore your call, Addie, I was working._

It wasn't long. It wasn't so bad that it interfered with work, that's what he recalls thinking, when he thought about it. They went about their lives, two slow trains on diverging tracks.

 _You seem fine now._

"Addie…"

"But then I saw him again," she says, her voice sounding far-off. "I guess … his wife was in for fetal diagnosis. He didn't show up until after I'd done the initial consult, and then …"

Derek feels his heart speeding up. "What happened?"

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

 _She memorizes the pattern on the patient curtain to avoid looking at him, but sees him anyway._

 _His hair is more salt than pepper now, but his eyes are the same. Just like they did then, they make her knees feel weak._

 _Just for a different reason now, the same reason that making her fingers grip the chart so they don't tremble._

 _It's him._

 _She can see, across his wife's bed, a faint but definite white scar underneath his right eye. She's never actually seen the mark before – Ethan was gone by the time they came back to Connecticut, erased from that painful year of her life, but she's heard Savvy and her brother discussing it. Savvy's gentle, protective older brother, driven to – she could have ruined his life, too, if he'd been caught._

 _She ruins things, if she's not careful. Breaks them, beyond repair._

 _But she can't avoid him now, can't transfer the patient's care without speaking to the patient herself first, not even under these circumstances. And of course he's in the room with her. She keeps focused despite the buzzing in her head. It's one more conversation, then she'll turn the patient over to Amani Khalid, invent a reason, and she'll never have to –_

" _Doctor?"_

 _She pauses in the doorframe, so close to leaving. Ignore him, she suggests to herself, keep walking, you're a doctor, pretend you have an emergency, but she doesn't move._

 _His footsteps mark the linoleum and then his shadow is blotting her out._

" _Dr. … Shepherd, isn't it?"_

 _His tone is pleasant enough and since he can't hear her heart hammering against her ribs maybe he doesn't notice the effect of his presence._

 _He's standing a half a step too close – not the first husband of a patient to do so, but the first time she can't quite get her footing to step aside._

" _I wanted to thank you for what you've done for my wife. I'm sorry you won't be treating her anymore. Your reputation is … remarkable."_

 _Avoiding eye contact, she nods, lips pressed together. Instinctually, she touches the pager at her hip, praying someone will need her so she can –_

" _You look familiar," he says slowly, studying her face. "Like … someone I used to know."_

" _If you have further questions about your wife's treatment, Dr. Khalid is excellent," she says pointedly, not making eye contact. "She can address any questions you have."_

" _It's uncanny," he continues, as if she hasn't said anything at all. "But … maybe you just have one of those faces." And then before she can register, one of his hands is rising and then his fingers are brushing the skin of her cheek._

 _She tastes bile in her throat and steps back so quickly she hits the half open door, the knob bruising her flesh._

 _She hears someone calling her name, but she ignores them._

 _She just walks._

 _She walks, and walk, and walks._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

"…and you know the rest. The last thing I remember is the bartender giving me the house phone and telling me to call a friend or he'd call 911. And then I woke up in the hospital. Savvy was standing over me, and … she was crying."

"You came to the island," he says, putting it together. He's trying to confirm dates in his head, even as he knows time seems to settle into something altogether different on the island.

She nods.

"Did you ever – "

"No. He was gone when I got back. Amani handled the patient and – he was gone. It was like the last time. Like he'd never been there."

Derek nods slowly, taking it in.

"How much did Weiss tell you," Addison asks, "about when we were in college, I mean?"

"He told me about the stairs," Derek says.

Addison looks down. "That scar just above my knee…"

His fingers brush it instinctually as she mentions it.

"You told me you were sailing," he says. "You tripped on a sailboat."

He noticed the scar early on, one of the first times, when they were young and drunk in lust, learning each other's bodies with tracing fingers.

"Well, I didn't. It was the last stair on the third floor of Davener Hall."

He feels a little nauseated. "Addison …"

"It wasn't that bad," she says, and his nausea only increases with those words. "I was a little banged up. But considering …."

"Do you remember it?" he asks.

She looks down at her hands for a moment, then back at him, her eyes reflecting the gathering light. "I remember we were … arguing, and I remember waking up in the hospital with Savvy standing over me. She was crying."

It sounds much like how she described the night two years ago, and the similarity can't have lost on Savvy. Picking up the pieces twenty years apart. They're more than friends, he knows – they're sisters, really – but he should have been there two years ago.

"That wasn't the first time," he says tentatively.

"That I fell down the stairs?" She says it lightly, like she's joking. "Like I said, we've both seen much worse. I was young and stupid."

"What about him? How old was he?"

"Older," Addison admits. "He'd taken some time … maybe thirty."

Her fingers brush across her face almost unconsciously. He tracks them with his, and she turns her cheek into his palm briefly, warmly, like a cat. With the vantage point of twenty years, he pictures a nineteen-year-old Addison – younger still by several years than the comparable baby he met their first year of medical school. And the older man who took advantage of her vulnerability when her closest friend was distracted.

"He was violent," Derek says quietly.

"Sometimes." Addison is staring out at the horizon. "It was my fault too, you know?"

"No." Derek frowns. "How was it your fault too?

"I was so stupid. I was nineteen, and stupid, he used to break up with me when – well, he broke up with me, you know, a few times. We were either all in or all out, and I never lasted long before I was begging him to come back."

She looks up at him, disgust in her eyes. "Like I said, stupid."

"You weren't stupid, Addison. You were nineteen."

"Yeah." She flexes her hands again. "Well. We were … loud, we would fight, but Savvy wasn't usually home. She was always at Weiss's. He, um, slapped me and Savvy found out and made a whole thing about it."

 _Good._ He doesn't say that out loud, but he knows if it were anyone else Addison would agree.

"He broke up with me … again … and we had another fight and … it was exhausting," she admits. "He took me back. And Savvy saw … I had some marks on my arms, you know, he had been rough and she flipped out again. Threatened to confront him if I didn't break up with him, so I did. And then I, uh, I was late.

"I didn't tell Savvy. I thought she'd flip out. I thought he'd – that he'd try to get me back if he knew and so I told him I was pregnant."

Derek nods. The story is chilling, but he's heard enough of its outlines not to be shocked.

"He wasn't happy about it. Accused me of sleeping around. He called me – names," she recalls. "He told me he was already seeing another girl and didn't want anything to do with me. And I slapped him," she admits. "We were fighting with each other. It wasn't just him." She glances at him.

"What happened next?" he asks, figuring he'll deal with the cognitive dissonance later.

"I made an appointment," she admits. "And I had a few drinks to get up the courage for it … maybe a little more than a few … and then I ran into him in Davener while I was dropping off a problem set."

He swallows.

"I told him I was going to keep the baby. I lied," she says. "I wanted to make him mad – I must have wanted to – and when he didn't say anything I just remember being furious, I wanted to scratch his face. I remember him shaking me," she says quietly, lifting her free hand so her forearm is raised almost self-protectively, "he used to … do that, when he was angry, it was so disconcerting because you'd be dizzy after, like you couldn't remember your last thoughts."

Her slip into second person doesn't escape him. Carefully, he rests a hand over hers.

"My point is, we were equally at fault," she says. "We were both fighting. It wasn't just him."

"Addison," his blood feels cold, "he pushed you down the stairs."

She doesn't answer.

"You blame yourself for all the wrong things, you know that?"

He doesn't say, _instead of the right ones_ , but he can sense she hears it from her response.

She frowns a little. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult."

He tilts his head, taking her in. "How about … a neutral observation?"

"Observation, yes." She recrosses her legs on his lap, graceful as a cat; his hands lift automatically and resettle when she's done. It's as simple a choreographed marital dance as they have. "Neutral … no."

"Fair enough." His fingers move up her shin again to touch, lightly, the scar whose provenance he never knew. "I'm sorry that happened to you. You didn't deserve that, Addison."

"Yeah." She looks down. "That's what Savvy and Weiss said, and Bos. They told me I deserved better. That I would _get_ better." She fingers the chain holding their swing; Derek takes her unspoken cue and pushes lightly off the weathered boards to rock them. "And I did."

She looks at him almost shyly, and he squeezes her hand lightly.

Then her voice hardens. "And then look what I did to you. Doesn't seem like I did deserve better after all."

"Addison." He shakes his head.

She doesn't respond.

"That's not how it works."

She makes a sort of gesture with her free hand, as if to indicate the vastness of the island, of their fifteen years together, of _everything_.

"Nothing will ever be like it was," she says softly after long moments of silence. "Will it."

There's no question mark in her tone … just resignation.

He blinks, transported back to the bobbing white boat with Savvy's brother and cousin, what feels like years ago. He hears Beau's words:

 _There's no going back. You can't get the marriage back you had before._

"No," he says carefully, "not like it was."

 _You can get a new one, if you work at it, maybe even a better one, but it takes time and effort and all that not-easy stuff no one wants to do._

"It's all my fault," she says.

 _It takes two people to make a marriage. It takes two of 'em to break it too. You must have thought about your part in it._

"No," he says firmly. "It's mine too."

 _Maybe you need a new marriage._

For a few silent moments they continue to rock on the wide porch swing as he imagines what it would mean to get a _new marriage_. Addison's the shopper of the two of them, and he almost smiles picturing her on the living room couch with her legs tucked under her, surrounded by catalogues. _I've narrowed it down to three choices for our new marriage. What do you think? They don't all look the same, Derek, you have to look more closely!_

"I didn't do anything," Addison says, interrupting his thought.

"What do you mean?"

"When I saw Ethan. His wife, I mean. I didn't … she _seemed_ fine," Addison says, flexing her hands again, and he sees her twist her wedding rings around on her finger. He understands her disjointed words. "I hope she was fine. But … neither option is very good, is it?"

He waits for her to explain.

"Option one," Addison ticks off on her fingers, "she _was_ fine, which means that Ethan didn't … do anything to her, which means he's not really like that … other than with me, which means it was my fault."

"Addison."

"Option two," she continues, speaking over him, "she _wasn't_ fine, and I was too wrapped up in myself to notice or try to help her, even though I was her doctor."

"You transferred care. She had another doctor to notice if she needed help," Derek points out.

Addison doesn't respond.

"What about the third option?" he asks after a moment.

"I don't know what the third option is."

"The third option," Derek says, "is that she was fine … because Savvy's brother knocked enough sense into that guy," he's not quite ready to say his name, "twenty years ago to make him realize the error of his ways."

Addison seems to consider this.

"If anyone could do it, I'd think Boswell could," Derek observes.

Addison's brow knits. "Did you just compliment Savvy's brother?"

"Maybe." Derek leans back against the swing. "But I'll deny it if you tell him."

.-.-.

Savvy checks her blackberry for the hundredth time.

Nothing.

"Don't let your brother see you attached to that thing," Weiss says lightly, trying to distract her.

It doesn't work.

"She hasn't said anything," Savvy cranes her neck by the window as if she could see all the way to Reeds. "She hasn't texted, or called, or stopped by –"

"Savvy. _Sav_ ," he says, more firmly, when she starts pacing the floor and doesn't respond. "She's talking to Derek. Give her some time."

"She was upset…"

"It's not your fault. It was never your fault."

"I know that." She doesn't make eye contact, just toes the familiar hooked rug on the weathered floorboards with one bare foot.

"Your words do … but what about the rest of you?"

Savvy turns sad blue eyes on him. "I yelled at her, Weiss."

"Yelled. You?" He raises his eyebrows. Savvy prides herself on being able to get her point across without ever modulating her volume. _It's the Southern in me_ , she would say sweetly, after decimating an opponent with a smile.

"You know what I mean." Savvy paces, questioning herself. "Addie was upset. She thought I was throwing it her face … you know."

"You wouldn't do that."

"She thinks I did." Savvy pauses. "I don't know, honey. Maybe I did."

"Sav … "

"I _pushed_ her. She was alone in the reeds, she was upset and I don't know why I couldn't just …"

She sinks onto the bed and Weiss sits down next to her, wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Savvy, it's okay."

"I don't know if it is." She rests her face in her hands. "She just had a – medical emergency, and all this stuff with Derek, and I stuck the two of them in that room on purpose, which I know you knew along – "

"I did," he admits.

" – and you know Derek's been on her case when we're not watching and then I jumped down her throat when I caught her on the phone with Mark."

"Okay," he says calmly.

"Well, I shouldn't have! I don't know why I did it, I just – I'm frustrated."

Weiss doesn't say anything; he has a hand on her back, playing with the ends of her long hair.

"And then I sent her off with Derek." Savvy leans back, looking at her husband. "They _need_ to talk, honey, but if I upset her and then they can't …"

"You did it because you thought it would help," Weiss prompts.

She closes her eyes. She and Addison have spent twenty years in the kind of fluid friendship where their secrets are knitted together.

"Addie knows you love her," Weiss says gently. "You've been understanding. Maybe she needed something different."

"Or maybe I made it worse."

"She's going to make her own choice, babe."

"I know that, I just …."

She only has to close her eyes again, briefly, to see Addison crumpled at the bottom of the wooden staircase. Blood soaking through the leg of her jeans, red hair splayed messily around her still white face.

"She's strong, Savvy." Weiss's hand covers hers in her lap.

"But I – "

"You've only ever made her stronger," Weiss interrupts. "That's what Addie would say, if you asked – wouldn't she?"

.-.-.

A bird circles above them, calling down through the breeze.

"Why didn't you tell Savvy, the first time you saw him?" Derek asks gently, trying to walk the line between not accusing her and being genuinely curious.

She thinks about it for a while before she answers.

"I don't know. I just didn't." Addison glances up at him. "And then after I saw him again, I couldn't. I just – they would have asked questions. But I was going to tell them, maybe. I was going to tell you," she adds quietly. "I wanted to, I almost did so many times. I just …"

He doesn't pressure her to finish the sentence. They sit in silence, his hands resting lightly along her shins.

"I should have been there," he says simply.

"You were working."

He wants to grasp the proffered excuse like a lifeline, but he can't.

Not now.

She's laid the past bare now and he knows it's his turn.

"I was working," he says, "but Weiss called and when he said it was an emergency they got me out."

She nods, as if she already knew that.

"Addie?"

"I heard something Savvy and Weiss said … I know he talked to you that night. They never told me anything about the call, though."

"There's a reason for that," he says grimly, and when he admits his part in it – when he repeats the words that make his cheeks burn with shame – she doesn't look shocked.

"It's – not particularly kind," she says ruefully, "but it's … just words, Derek. That night … it was more what you _didn't_ do than anything you said."

And maybe more than just that night.

He lets the words sink in. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I said that. And I'm sorry that I did … nothing. That I didn't do something."

She nods. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. If I had, then maybe … but I didn't."

Silence.

Another bird, another creak as he sets the swing in motion again.

He's next to speak.

"Mark," he says tentatively, feeling her tense next to him at the mention of his name. "Did he know?"

"Know … about Ethan showing up at the hospital, you mean?" Addison looks confused. "Of course not. I didn't even tell Savvy."

"So that wasn't why … ." He stops talking, but she picks up the thread.

"No." Addison shakes her head. "Not at all. I know how this sounds, Derek, but he was just … there. He was _there_ , and I was sad, and I missed you. He was the … human equivalent of a gin and tonic."

"Does he know that?"

"I don't know." Addison looks pained.

"You haven't told him."

"It's not that, it's just …." Her voice trails off. "I haven't handled it well. Any of it."

He doesn't respond to this.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Derek, I just – if you could just hear that I'm sorry, I would be … I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I did it and I'm even more sorry that you saw it."

He nods.

"I know you were angry," she says, and all of a sudden, with a sickening sense memory, he's holding her by the arm, pushing her out the door toward the –

"Stairs," he says abruptly. "Addison. That night, you know I – "

"I know."

It's not satisfying, somehow. "But I didn't – "

"Derek, I know that's not what you were doing. Not that I would blame you if you had."

"Don't," he says sharply, and sees her flinch at his tone.

He finds himself apologizing again, and she waves a weary hand.

 _If he knew …_

If he knew, what?

The swing creaks back and forth as he ponders the possible ends of that sentence.

Addison is the next one to speak, after long quiet moments.

"You called Meredith," she says tentatively.

"I called Meredith." He glances out at the horizon. "I wanted to be honest."

She's studying his face as he speaks.

"But you didn't call her until …"

He shakes his head. "She … didn't exist to me here."

"Is that how you felt about me when you were in Seattle?" Addison asks, too clever to avoid the parallel.

"No. That was different." Derek glances at her. "In Seattle, I had to pretend you didn't exist because you were filling up my head. And here, Meredith stopped existing," he admits, "… because you were filling up my head."

She blinks, then crosses the space between them to press her lips to his. He kisses her back for a moment, but as his hands slide instinctually over her ribs he's assailed with images he's never seen: her broken body at the foot of a wooden staircase, her slumped shoulders at the bar while she dialed calls he didn't take, her journey to the island two years ago when he didn't notice she was gone.

Her hands wind into his hair and then the images in his mind are ones he _has_ seen: Addison looking small and tired in her silk robe, standing in their foyer denying a hangover; Addison hunched and pleading on the staircase, begging him to stay; Addison crouched in the bathtub at Reeds, blood pooling under her shivering body.

The magnitude of pain overwhelms him. It's too much, their past, and he can't do it again. Gently, he pulls back, holding her upper arms. Her hands are still on his face when she turns hers upwards. Her eyes look huge in this light, reflecting the muted greenish-blue of the island.

Slowly, she withdraws her hands; the breeze replaces their warmth on his cheeks.

"Sorry," she says softly.

"You don't have to apologize." He takes one of her hands, rubbing his thumb absently across the back of it. "You've apologized enough today." One of her bare wrists catches his eye and in a blink he's back in the reeds under gathering storm clouds, holding that small turn of bone in one of his hands. He's hurt her so many times, in ways he's only starting to see now. He can't do it again.

"But I'm sorry," she says.

"Yeah, I know. So am I."

The swing creaks in silence again. She doesn't ask _why_ and doesn't press for more, but he hears her without words.

"It's … me," he says finally. "I'm sorry, Addie, I just … after everything. I, uh, I can't."

Slowly, she nods.

"It's okay," she offers after a moment. She leans her head against his shoulder and he shifts his arm so she's resting in the crook of it.

After a moment, the swing starts moving again; Addison must have pushed it this time.

* * *

 _To be continued. Three more chapters, and one is already done which means it can go up fast. (That's right - I actually have an outline). I would love to hear what you thought, so pretty please review and let me know. And as always, thank you so, so much for reading!_


	21. in the sweet by and by

**A/N: I'm overwhelmed by your response to the last chapter. You deserve another chapter ASAP, so here you go - a very long (for this story) chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and I am so grateful that you are experiencing this story along with me.**

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _21\. in the sweet by and by_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

Savvy told her once that if you stood at the exact midpoint of the island, you could see every part of it at the same time. Three Rivers, the ocean, every dock, every foot of the island's sandy perimeter. _Where's the midpoint?_ Addison asked then, interested. _No one's found it yet,_ Savvy said. _But then how do you know that that's where you can see every part of the island at the same time?_

Savvy didn't have an answer for her. Savvy had _faith_ , and an island as bursting with life and surprise as she herself.

 _The island knows things_ , that's another one Savvy used to say. Knows what … and when, as Addison was reminded this morning on one of the island's many strips of sandy beach, rhythmically shelling peas while the waves curled onto the shore.

 _The island knows when to hold on, and when to let go. Why can't she?_

She's quite literally holding on, right now. Her head is resting against his shoulder, his arm supporting her. She's taken his free hand in hers, holding it.

Holding on.

But she saw the look of peace on his face when he mentioned Meredith. Their phone call. His honesty about his marriage must have upset her, maybe even put her off, but he still looked … peaceful, even happy. And he deserves to be happy.

He's letting go.

And she needs to let go too.

 _Sometimes love means wanting the other person to be happy, even if it's not with you._

There was a time when she thought their split could only be explosive, with the rage of the last night in New York or the cold furious tension of the first few nights on the island.

No one warned her it could be tender, even loving. So much so that she has to steel herself as every instinct screams at her to grab hold of him.

He's moving on, and she's not going to stop him.

She won't stop him, but she'll drink greedily while she can, absorbing the warmth of him through the sleeve of his shirt. The muscles of his shoulder are so familiar under her cheek.

 _Tired_ isn't the word for what she is. She's exhausted. She's poured out words and memories she tried to forget for years, faced the pain she put him through, and listened to him too.

And he heard her.

He _heard._

 _If only they could have – but regrets won't do anything now._

She's exhausted, but she feels lighter, too. She's handed him what she carried alone. And he took it.

She closes her eyes, just for a moment. Just to pretend that she deserves this.

"Addie?"

She feels his fingers brush her cheek.

"I'm awake," she says automatically.

He raises an eyebrow and she smiles a little. His face is close to hers; she could map each faint line. They carved the years into each other – met when they were young and smooth, unmarked, and then explored together.

"The shell beach," she says after a moment. "Did you still want to …"

"Yes." But he keeps his arm around her when she starts to get up. "You were going to rest…" he reminds her.

"I will. After," she says. "Before dinner, if there's time," she compromises when he doesn't look satisfied. "You might want to rest too, Derek. It's dry enough tonight for fireworks and Savvy's family doesn't tire easily."

He looks appropriately nervous at this. He also looks like he wants to protest, but perhaps he senses something from her, some _now or never, time is running out_ , and he just nods.

They've been on the swing so long that leaving it is a production. His hands skim over her as she sits up, and he holds the swing still while she stands, stretching stiff muscles. He's so _careful_ , so aware of her. She remembers this focused attention, remembers it well.

It's just … been a while.

.-.-.

He hasn't been able to convince Addison to rest, when she doesn't want to, for more than fifteen years. So he doesn't expect to succeed now.

Still, he keeps a hand at her back as they walk, unable to keep from murmuring occasional warnings about the uneven ground. For her part, she seems to be trying not to look too annoyed. Addison is strong – he knows this well, but her body has been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours and the doctor in him is screaming that she needs to rest.

The husband in him agrees, for the most part.

But Addison was insistent, and so they're picking their careful way along the path now, toward the shell beach. The island is supposedly circular, as the Beauforts seem to like saying, but on this walk it feels more like a Mobius strip. They cover ground that seems familiar but somehow _not_ familiar at the same time, making him wonder if he's seen it before at all.

Reeds climb their shins, tickling the bare parts of their feet. Birds call overhead, and he hears scurrying below them and knows they're not alone.

A gull sounds, suggesting they're close. "You have to walk through here," Addison says, gesturing toward a cave-like sand structure that can't be more than four feet tall, jutting from the middle of a dune.

As they approach, he sees grains of sand blown off its cracked exterior by the salty breeze.

"That doesn't look safe, Addison."

"The kids were just down there this morning."

"The kids are a lot smaller than we are," he points out, frowning at the sand. All they need is for the structure to collapse on them.

"Derek … ." She holds out her hand. "Just trust me," she says.

He takes her hand, bends low when she does, and lets her lead him through the cavern.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

Her hands are on her hips; she looks pleased with herself. He has a sudden, impulsive desire to kiss her – one he stamps out quickly, knowing it could only make things more difficult.

"Not so bad," he echoes, glancing around.

The shell beach isn't what he expected, though he's not sure why, after his experience on the island, he would even bother to try to expect.

The sand is pale, tinged pinkish with the setting sun. Gulls are tracking overhead with mournful cries. The air is pungent with salt, a thick seaweedy smell. And the wet sand that welcomes the ocean is choked with shells.

Lots of shells.

Shells of every shape and size and color, from the tiniest scallop, small as a lentil, to fist-sized spotted bonnets and spiky conches. It's the sunset that's coloring them, it has to be, because their shades are too bright and brilliant for washed-up seashells.

He looks up the beach to see the colonies of shells extend. There are small piles of them, circles like small outcroppings.

"The kids come down here and move things around, build things," Addison explains, gesturing toward some of their constructions.

They stand in the pinkish sand, watching foaming waves stroke the shell-lined shore. Addison drops to her haunches – he finds himself crouching down with her, and when she stands she's holding an enormous conch, the size of a newborn with coral exterior and pearly pink insides.

"Listen," she says, holding it up, and he humors her, helping her get it to his ear – it looks heavy, but it feels surprisingly light in his hands. The roar of the ocean greets him when it gets close.

"The shells don't change," Addison says thoughtfully, "but the colors do, with the seasons. That's what Savvy told me, anyway."

He nods, looking back toward the sandy cavern that led them to the shell beach, then across the layers of colored shells.

"All the beaches look different," he notes, thinking of his experience on the island's perimeter. He hasn't seen every part of it, but he's been to the edge on reed-laced beach nearest where they're staying, and to the blanker stretches with thick, pillowy sand, where he and Addison hunted for trash the day they were late to breakfast.

"It has something to do with the water," Addison says vaguely, "the ocean and then Three Rivers … I don't know. I should have paid more attention in Marine Bio."

"You could join the conservationist team."

"I don't think they're looking for surgeons."

He smiles a little at this.

She picks up a long, weathered stick. The outer bark has been stripped so it's nearly white. She presses its pointed end into the sand, then turns to him, still holding on to it. For a moment, he thinks she's going to say something, but then she stops.

He's remembering the other beach, where they finished out their community service days ago. She was holding a stick, much like this one.

 _"You remember how we'd spend anniversaries at the Hamptons house and we'd always write our initials in a heart in the sand? You'd always want to wait until the waves had smoothed it all out before we left the beach."_

She was smiling when she said it, like she was enjoying the memory, and he was annoyed.

 _"Erased it, you mean? I guess that should have been a sign."_

His response that day hurt her; he knew it then, and he briefly relives it now. She's still toying with the long pointed stick – he does remember those sand-carved initials, sun-warmed anniversaries on the beach. _A + D_ , she would write. _D + A_ , when he had the stick. It was the kind of disagreement that was even better than consensus. The kind that made them smile.

Now he studies her for a long moment, just her profile etched against the early afternoon sun, pointed stick in her hand.

 _You want to know what I see when I look at you?_ He asked her that the night of the storm, standing on the damp sand of the beach watching the angering water curl onto the shore.

 _I see Mark's hands_. He told the ocean instead of Addison, _I see Mark's hands all over you and I see what you were doing when I walked in on you. And I hear you … saying his name._

His words echoed in that salty air before their late-night journey across Three Rivers, harsh and low. He wasn't lying. A part of him said it to hurt her, maybe, but it was truth too.

It was also several days and a lifetime ago.

He's not quite sure it's true anymore.

He's fairly certain he's not sure _what's_ true anymore.

That's when he realizes he's holding her hand, not quite certain when that happened, and that his fingers are moving absently within and around hers. Addison glances at him, then back at the sand – and hefts the stick, just a little, as if she's about to write something.

But a gong sounds across the sand before she can: the bell, calling them for dinner.

.-.-.

The hearth is bustling, excited blond children climbing over the log benches until they're shooed away, the younger adults nearly as energized.

"Fireworks," Bos says, approaching with tin bowl in hand. "You can always tell when it's a fireworks night."

Derek looks around as a buzz seems to run through the gathered relatives.

"Addie knows," he says. "Right?"

Next to him, Addison nods.

"Mama loved fireworks," Bos says. "When she and Aunt Cee were girls they'd set them off down the beach. Apparently Mama was convinced Catherine Wheels were named for her, and their daddy found Cecilia crying because she didn't have her own firework. You know what he did?"

Derek shakes his head.

"Named another firework after her. Bottle rocketswere _Cecilia Rockets_ from then on." Bos grins. "Those two had Granddaddy wrapped around their little fingers. There was nothing he wouldn't do for them."

Derek smiles at the image.

"You'll see," Bos says, nodding toward the throng of blond children gathered at the hearth; Derek knows his twins must be somewhere the group. "It's always the way."

.-.-.

Island stew consumed, dishes stripped and carted to the warehouse, embers down to a rough glow at the hearth, it's apparently time for fireworks. They gather in a clearing Derek hasn't seen before, flat and smooth. There are numerous stones serving as backless seats, longer stone benches, and further back a ringed firepit that's a smaller version of the hearth. The fire isn't lit; its stone belly is filled with what look like paper lanterns instead. They give a soft, slightly eerie glow.

Derek watches as the smallest children – mostly babies, mostly sleeping by now, are settled around the hearth with doting relatives.

He turns back to the clearing, noting that there are more lanterns than he realized – they're strung in the trees, looped like tinsel, dripping white light onto the clearing.

"They'll go out on their own," Savvy tells Derek, apparently seeing him looking.

"When?" he asks.

"When they're ready," Savvy says, as if that's a perfectly normal answer. Addison shrugs at his side. They make their way along the clearing. In a central ring, a good distance from the trees, Beau is setting up children with fireworks.

Derek listens as he recites instructions and makes the children repeat them.

"All right. Stand back from whoever's got the sparkler and keep your eyes open, all of y'all. You hear?"

There's a generous chorus of _yes, sir_ and a lot of nodding blond heads.

"Have at it, then," Beau says.

The adults are spread out, some at the smaller hearth with the tiniest children, others perched on the rocks or lounging against lantern-lit trees, chatting. Beau strides toward them, giving Addison a kiss on the cheek. "You look like you're feeling better," he says.

"I am."

"Good," Beau says. He watches the children for a moment, hands on his hips. Derek watches too, as a small blond boy moves away from the group, and then –

with a _whoosh_ , the sparkler lights up, the children crowing with delight.

"Island rules?" Derek asks, raising his eyebrows, when Beau glances at him.

"You never set off a firework when you were a kid?" Beau asks.

Well … going down that road would require remembering who procured the fireworks, showed him how to set them off, and then lied like a champ to his parents about what burned a hole in the door of the garden shed.

So he just smiles weakly. Beau is distracted in short measure by one of his children, and Derek lets Addison lead the way toward Savvy's brother, who's lounging against a tree with some of the cousins and listening to his son, who seems to be making an earnest plea for something.

"…took it," the little boy is complaining as they approach.

"You tell Sissy you had it first, then," Bos prompts, pointing his son in the direction of his twin sister, who Derek now sees is watching from feet away with small hands propped on her hips. "Go on, son."

They watch him pad toward his sister.

"You know how it is with the Beaufort women. Can't let them start pushing you around in kindergarten."

"Not when they have the rest of their lives to do it, anyway," Beau adds, sounding amused.

"Excuse me, we're _right_ here," Cammie cuts in, and the woman next to her laughs.

Derek listens to the murmured teasing, in the rhythm that's started to seem familiar.

Someone passes a flask into his hands. "White lightning?" he asks weakly.

"Not on fireworks night." Bos sounds indignant. "It's hot chocolate," he adds.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Go on, it's not poisoned," Bos says, making it sound rather as if it is. Derek takes a sip anyway. It's thick and sweet and whatever poison it contains is well masked.

Addison takes the flask from him and takes a long sip, smiling when she finishes. "Delicious," she says.

There's a spot of chocolate at the corner of her mouth; he dabs it off with his thumb without thinking, and when she looks up at him – in her flat shoes, there's a tilt of her chin to be eye to eye – there's an expression in her eyes that makes him swallow hard.

Bos clears his throat, and Addison hastily passes along the flask.

"It's good luck," he says. "Hot chocolate. It kind of … cleanses the soul."

Derek considers this. Hot chocolate, another island tradition? It was Addison who suggested hot chocolate could clear the air. _I thought that was sage,_ he said, they were newly minted attendings with flocks of residents. _Hot chocolate tastes better than sage,_ she said. _And has better juju?_ he teased her.

Traditions, it seems, can start in many ways.

Someone passes him the flask again and he takes a long sip. Low stone benches link the trees in this part of the clearing; he settles on the cold flat surface and Addison sinks down beside him.

On the other side of the clearing, bigger kids – adults, whatever they are – are setting off far bigger fireworks, more like the ones off the boat during Catherine's funeral. White starbursts explode overhead, and showers of multicolored sparks rain down to murmurs and cheers from the crowds.

They watch with quiet approval until a sudden cry rends the air, different from the others.

Derek jumps to his feet automatically; Beau is faster, and when he gets to the cluster of children he sees a small blond boy sitting on the ground tearfully, a big wet patch on the front of his thermal shirt. The air smells like damp smoke.

"Isaac _fell_!" a small child shouts.

"It was the sparkler, but we didn't know he was standing so close," a blonde girl a bit taller than him cries.

"A spark got on him," a boy who looks a little older explains. "On his shirt. I threw the water and put it out, but he was kind of running and he fell."

"Good man." Beau nods. He's kneeling down in front of Isaac now. "Whose sparkler?" he asks, looking up.

The children exchange glances.

"Tucker Collins." Beau shakes his head when one of the boys steps forward. "You _never_ get that close when you're holding a sparkler, you know better than that."

"But I didn't know he was standing so close!"

"You should have checked first. Go sit over there," Beau instructs, pointing to one of the low rocks, "and wait for me."

He turns back to Isaac, who's still clutching his wet shirt.

"I can take a look," Derek offers.

Beau looks uncertain, but nods.

Derek gestures for both of them to follow him out of the throng of gaping children to where it's a little quieter. Lily catches up to them, breathless. Derek sits down on one of the low rock ledges, making himself smaller, as Isaac stands in front of him.

"You got hit with some water?" Derek asks.

Isaac nods. "It was _fire_ before."

"Yeah? That sounds scary."

Isaac lifts his chin as if to suggest he wasn't frightened.

"Can I take a look?"

"Are you really a doctor?" Isaac asks, sniffling a little.

"I really am," Derek assures him.

"Then where's your thing?" He gestures toward Derek's shirt with one small hand.

"My stethoscope?"

"Yeah."

"I left it at home," Derek says. "I mean, I could go back and get it … but it might take me a while to fly all the way back to New York, then _all_ the way back here."

Isaac smiles a little at this. "That's silly," he says. "You can't go all the way back to New York."

"Good point," Derek smiles at him. "So I guess we can live without it for tonight. Okay?"

"Okay."

The exam is quick and the damage minimal – the singed shirt did a good job of protecting his skin. There are bruises forming on his knees where he fell, but the skin isn't broken and he didn't twist or sprain anything on the way down.

"Am I okay?" Isaac asks, wide eyed, as Derek finishes. Lily, who seems to carry whatever is needed, has a dry shirt for her son. He pulls it over his head.

"You are definitely okay," Derek tells him.

He stands up to talk to Beau and Lily.

"Whoever threw the water was fast," Derek reports. "He's more shaken up than anything else."

"Thank you so much," Lily says gratefully.

Beau thanks him too, but his jaw looks set. "That could have been a lot worse," he admits.

"The other one," Derek says tentatively, gesturing toward the boy seated on the rocks. "He's yours too?"

"Tuck? Yeah, he's mine." Beau pauses to stroke the top of Isaac's head before the little boy walks off hand-in-hand with Lily to sit with some of the other women and the smallest children a good distance from the fireworks.

Then he turns to his other son, who is perched solemnly on the rock where Beau sat him, also watching.

"Is Isaac okay?" Tucker asks warily.

"He's okay," Derek says, hoping he's not overstepping.

"You heard the doc," Beau says, seemingly not bothered. He looks down at Tucker. "Are you hurt?" he asks, standing over him with his hands on his hips.

"No, sir," Tucker mumbles, eyes on the ground. Derek notices his two small fists are still clenched in his lap.

"Open your hands," Beau instructs his son. "Tucker, don't make me tell you again."

Reluctantly, he uncurls his fists. Derek checks each palm, seeing the spot where he was likely startled into losing his grip.

Derek turns his small hand gently. It's minor – and could have been far worse – but it's likely to sting. "Does that hurt?" he asks, carefully touching the skin.

"No, sir."

"Good." Derek smiles at him, then glances up at Beau. "Cammie should have gauze and cream in her kit, just to be safe," Derek begins, pausing at the other man's expression. "What?"

"Nothing," Beau says. "I'll go get 'em."

Tucker doesn't make a peep as Derek cleans and bandages his hand, then stands up again. His knees pop faintly as he does so, and he entertains a brief hope Beau didn't hear. Savvy's cousin is older, yet somehow manages to project the image of someone who's never had a cracked joint in his life.

"He's all right," Derek says. "Keep it clean and dry … and away from fire."

Beau shakes his head, thanking him again and then turning to his son. He points in the direction of Isaac, who is now curled up next to his mother in the small stone hearth. "Do you know how bad you could have hurt him?"

"But I didn't mean to hurt him!" he cries.

"I know you didn't, son," Beau says patiently. "Trouble is, that doesn't really matter 'cause you could have hurt him anyway. You can hurt someone real bad without trying, if you're not careful. You're big enough to know that."

Tucker hangs his head. "I said sorry to him."

"Glad to hear it. No more fireworks for you tonight, Tuck, you're done. Go and sit over there with your mama." He points in the direction of the small stone hearth where the smallest children are sleeping.

"But Daddy, I don't want to sit over –" Tucker stops talking mid-sentence, falling quickly silent at the expression on Beau's face.

Beau ruffles his son's hair. "Sass me again and you won't be wanting to sit anywhere at all, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Tucker says quickly, his small face glum as he heads across the clearing.

Beau watches him go with a look of sheer affection, then seems to notices Derek is still there. "Hellions, all five of them," Beau says, shaking his head. "If it's not one, it's the other."

"Even Avery?"

"Oh, Miss Avery's the worst offender, and none of the others'll turn her in either." Beau smiles. "Thanks again for what you did for Isaac, by the way."

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. That one doesn't like doctors. Had a few problems when he was Avery's size – he's fine now, but I guess he remembers because I've seen him holler just waiting for a shot. You have a real hand with kids." Beau glances at him. In the low light, his face is open and even friendly. With none of the contempt Derek has grown used to seeing on the other man's face, Beau's resemblance to Savvy is clear. "I know you have a pile of nieces and nephews," he continues. "Addie said."

He takes a moment to think of his sisters' children, almost all of them born after Addison joined his family. It was always _ours,_ never _mine._ They were DerekAndAddison's nieces and nephews.

"You grow up in a big family too?" Beau asks.

Derek nods. "The reverse of yours, you could say. I was the only boy of five."

Beau whistles. "Four sisters?"

When Derek nods again, the other man shakes his head.

"That's a lot of women," Beau says, sounding very serious. He claps Derek warmly on the shoulder, surprising him. "I'm grateful," he says, before heading toward the hearth.

.-.-.

He's still musing on Beau's friendliness, as well as his particular brand of wisdom, when Savvy approaches him.

"Derek … can I talk to you for a second?"

He nods immediately, a little surprised, and lets Savvy lead him toward a patch of lantern-lit trees.

"Beau was singing your praises," she says, smiling when Derek raises his eyebrows.

"All for putting a bandaid on his son?"

"You know Androcles and the Lion…"

Derek nods. He gets the sense Savvy has more to say, and when she inhales audibly he prepares himself.

"Derek … Addie talked to you. Today, I mean."

"Yeah, she did."

"About … "

"About last time," Derek says, "and then this time too."

Savvy nods. "So you know."

Derek nods. "I know."

Savvy's lower lip is caught between her teeth. She looks troubled.

"Sav?" Derek prompts.

"I know she wouldn't have said this, Derek, but I wanted you to know anyway – that it was my fault."

" _Your_ fault." Derek's brow furrows as yet another person tries to take responsibility for another man's actions. "How is it your fault?"

"I got so caught up with Weiss. Addie and I were inseparable for two years. We slept in the same room…"

Her voice trails off.

 _You know I don't like to sleep alone._

It was a peculiar fact of Addison's childhood that as much as she was, in many ways, neglected, left to her own devices – it was in a house full of rotating staff and activity, and she had her brother. The two years after Archer left for college and before Addison left were, he knows, some of the loneliest of her life.

 _Some of…_

He winces a little at his own phrasing, and he can tell from Savvy's expression that she has some idea what he's thinking.

"We were inseparable," Savvy repeats after a moment. "Addie and I. We didn't even have time to date those first years, not really, and then … it just happened so fast, you know? I fell so hard, and as much as I loved Addie I couldn't stand to be away from Weiss." She looks a little embarrassed. "I was young," she says, somewhat apologetically. "And I got caught up, but I should have been more sensitive. I should have tried harder to include her … maybe she wouldn't have kept going back to him."

"It's not your fault, Savvy. It's his."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Look … you were in college twenty years," Derek says, shaking his head. "You were a teenager. But I wasn't. Two years ago, I wasn't. What's my excuse for checking out?"

Savvy doesn't say anything, just looks at him.

"I don't have one. I just – didn't realize how bad it was," Derek says after a moment, answering his own question. He's remembering, turning it over in his mind, but not blaming, and hopes Savvy will perceive the difference. "Weiss didn't tell me how bad it was. It's not his fault," he adds hurriedly. "But when he called, that night, I thought Addie was just …"

"Drunk, and looking for your attention?"

Derek glances up.

"People don't change much," Savvy says softly. "You know? We just … sometimes change our reactions to them. That's what I think, anyway. And there was a time … maybe … when you would have come home for that?"

Slowly, Derek nods.

They're both quiet for a moment, watching fireworks light up the sky.

"I'm surprised you don't have more injuries," Derek says lightly, "with toddlers setting off sparklers."

"Careful now, you'll get Yankees banned from the island entirely."

A shower of red and blue sparks descends on the horizon, replete with _ooh_ and _ahh_ from the surrounding spectators.

"Thank you, for taking care of her that night," Derek says quietly, "and … the nights after."

Savvy's expression proves she knows what he means. "I didn't do it for you," she says, her words the same as her husband's the other day but her tone far more gentle.

"I know," he says. "And I know I don't have to thank you for loving Addison, you've been doing it longer than I have. I'm just, uh, I'm glad you did."

"So am I," she says simply.

Before he can say anything else, one of Savvy's blonde cousins – Millie, he thinks, though in the lantern-lit darkness it could be pretty much anyone – appears to pull her off. Derek is left standing on his own watching the fireworks, thinking about that night two years ago.

Addison knew he answered the phone, but she didn't know what he said.

Weiss never told her.

He never told Addison what he said, that night. Weiss, in his way, was protecting him. He'd probably say it was Sav he was protecting, Addison too, but Derek lets a little gratitude weave into his guilt.

"Are you done impressing the Beauforts?"

He looks up at the familiar voice. It's Bos's husband, Casey. He sounds calm, amused, as he leans against the tree.

"Impressing them?" Derek's eyes widen. "They've just started to tolerate me."

"I don't know about that. Crossing Three Rivers, fishing with the guys this morning, patching up the kids tonight … you've been a regular hero."

"Don't worry," Derek says, "I'm sure I'll do something to change their minds soon."

"You're leaving in the morning, aren't you?"

Derek glances at the other man; it's not quite bright enough, in the shadow of the branches, to read his expression. Slowly, he nods.

"Well, then. Not much time left to change minds."

.-.-.

"Is your husband a pediatrician?" Cammie asks, shifting her sleeping toddler to her other hip.

"No. He's just – good with kids," Addison says, resting a hand on the smooth trunk of the tree.

"He sure is. Isaac's a sensitive one too." Cammie glances at her. "But y'all don't have …"

… _children._

"No," Addison says, smiling briefly. "We don't."

Cammie just nods, and Addison is glad she doesn't make some kind of crack about how lucky the Shepherds are to be able to sleep at night or offering them one of her own handful of rosy blond offspring.

"You're leaving in the morning?" Cammie asks.

"Derek is leaving in the morning," Addison says, keeping her voice even. "I'm, uh, planning to stay a few more days to help Savvy."

"Right. That's nice of you."

 _Derek is leaving in the morning._

She knows this; it's her travel agent who booked the ticket and Addison who planned the routes. Derek will be ferried across Three Rivers with Augie and her family – Beau at the helm maybe, and Captain Eaves will be waiting at Beaufort Grove to fly them to Charlotte and Atlanta, respectively. It's simple logistics: Derek is leaving the island tomorrow, and Addison is staying until Sunday.

It's simple … and it's not.

Cammie is looking at her with a curious expression, and for just a moment Addison entertains the shameful thought of asking him to stay.

After how he put aside her betrayal to take of her, here on the island, can she really hurt him once more with her own selfish needs?

For just one more moment, she closes her eyes as fireworks explode behind her lids.

 _Don't go._

She recognizes his footsteps before she opens her eyes.

"Thank you, for this," Derek is saying as he approaches, handing Cammie back her first-aid kit and smiling briefly at Addison in greeting.

"It's getting a good run this time," Cammie observes. She hefts the kit onto her other hip. "Let me see if I can hand off this one," she says.

"You were great with Isaac," Addison tells Derek once they're alone and she's assured him she feels all right.

"He's fine," Derek assures her. "One of the others threw water on him right when it happened – knocked him over, but put out the spark."

"What about Tucker?"

"He must have been surprised when the spark flew, and held on a little high," Derek says. "Just one hand. It should heal quickly."

They both glance toward the hearth, where Beau is now sitting on the ring-shaped stone ledge with Avery asleep on his knee. Addison can see Isaac seems to be sleeping too, his head in his mother's lap. Tucker is sitting between them, by far the oldest child in the clearing, his face resting glumly on his unbandaged fist. They watch as Beau frees a hand to ruffle his son's mussed blond hair.

"Five kids," Derek says, shaking his head.

"Let's start with one," Addison counters, smiling, and then stops when she realizes what she said. "I mean … a person has to start with one."

"I know what you meant," Derek says. He glances toward the clearing. "Is this the end of the fireworks tonight?"

"After two minor injuries – are you kidding?" Addison smiles at him. "Savvy will tell you sometime about one of the ancestors paddling out to the island to report Atlanta had fallen to the Union and the Beauforts didn't even stop setting off fireworks to hear the news."

Derek shakes his head. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I don't know," Addison says. "The island kind of makes you believe in a lot of things."

She hears Savvy calling her name before they can continue the conversation. "You too, Derek," Savvy calls. "You'll miss the best part!"

"We don't want to miss that," Derek teases, and they follow Savvy to the smooth stones that form the front row of the riotous fireworks. Addison ducks under his extended arm out of habit, watching the show with wonder. Almost unconsciously, she finds herself _ooh_ ing and _ahh_ ing along with the assembled Beauforts – and so, to her surprise, does Derek.

His face is soft with reminiscence when she looks at him.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing." He glances back at the fireworks. "I was just remembering that summer we were at Bellevue on the Fourth, working through the night, and we went up on the roof and saw the last bit of the fireworks in the East River. We were a bunch of jaded residents but everyone still did the same thing when the fireworks went off."

 _Ooh_ and _ahh._

Addison smiles, remembering. "That was so long ago."

They were kids.

Ambitious, sleep-deprived kids, with no idea what was to come.

Derek smiles briefly back at her before turning back to watch the light show. Addison leans against him, letting him support her on the backless rock seats. There's a chill in the air now, but his arm secures her and the steady weight of his body keeps her warm as bright colors explode overhead.

It could be hours later – she's half-asleep, half-keyed-up – when the show dies down and Derek stands up, stretching a crick in his neck. He holds out a hand to help her up, and she takes it.

"Your shoulder," she says, suddenly remembering that she was leaning against the same shoulder he used to shatter open the door at Reeds.

"It's healed, remember?"

 _I thought you didn't believe in island magic._

But she doesn't say it, just smiles, watching the various Beaufort relatives pairing off, matching up children and parents and spouses and heading toward the cottages.

Beau walks by carrying a sleeping Isaac, a nearly-as-sleepy Tucker hanging onto his free hand. Addison watches as he crouches down, Isaac in one arm, to sling his older son onto his back.

"I hardly ever have to hit the gym anymore," he says with a grin when he sees Addison.

Lily, who's carrying Avery, looks amused.

"I can carry her, Mama." Their oldest, already as tall as his mother, holds out his arms for their youngest.

"Such a gentleman." Lily frees a hand to touch her son's cheek. "I've got her, honey. You and Chris can stay out with the others, but get _some_ sleep."

Addison smiles as the older children make the clearing their own, relishing in their freedom. The island has always seemed to her nothing if not _free_ , free from the constrains of the outside world, from the fears and limitations that always seemed to attend her.

"You want to stay out, Addie?" Derek asks, his tone light.

"Not a chance," she says, and tucks her arm through his, trying not to think how soon the morning is, and that the time for magic may have already run out.

.-.-.

"Now, here I thought we were going back to the cottage. But you always keep things interesting."

She doesn't respond.

"Sav…"

"She told him," Savvy says, still facing the ocean. Weiss watches the breeze lift her long hair.

He doesn't ask _who_ or _what_.

In a moment, as he predicted, Savvy turns around. Her face is pensive, full of starlight. "He _knows_. He knows now."

"Finally," Weiss says.

"Finally."

Savvy steps into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist. She fits so perfectly against him, and he pushes out of his head thoughts of her softness, her shape, of what could change. He just holds her, rocking slightly and silently from foot to foot in the sand. Together they watch the ocean move in, and out again.

The waves are loose, unfurling, like they've let go a secret.

.-.-.

" _Was it definitely him?"_

 _Savvy glances at her sleeping friend before she turns back to the phone. "She seems pretty sure it was. Said she saw the scar under his eye."_

" _You mean the one shaped an awful lot like Granddaddy's pocket watch?"_

" _Bos." She shakes her head even though he can't see it down the phone line. "It's not funny."_

" _I know that, Sissy." He pauses. "How's she doing?"_

 _Savvy starts to answer, and then stops._

 _She just shudders instead. Flashes of that terrifying car ride nearly twenty years ago, Addie half stretched out in the backseat while Savvy, Boswell and Weiss took shifts driving. The dark was comforting for its potential to hide them, spring breezes growing warmer as they covered southbound roads – college kids turned fugitives, Weiss wringing his hands over sneaking Addie out of Health Services and Bos close-lipped about what he'd done to that –_

 _Whatever it was, she was certain he deserved it. It was only fear for her brother's future that left her relieved when a whispered phone call just past the Georgia border finally confirmed he had survived._

" _Sav…"_

" _Yeah, I'm here."_

 _Damn portable phones. She's all for progress and Weiss likes to tease her she couldn't survive without her blackberry, but there are times you just need a phone cord to wind around your hand. Times of stress. She nibbles at her cuticles instead, even though she hasn't done that in years._

" _Where's her guy in all this?" Bos asks._

" _You mean Derek?" Savvy leans back against the wall, deftly avoiding the wedding portrait resting at the end of the occasional table. She doesn't have to pick it up to see it clearly: lots of lace – lots and lots of lace, as Weiss would say, Addie laughing next to her in a sea of ocean-colored ruffles. Augie on her other side like a blonder bookend, one hand propped on her hip. Peonies everywhere. It was beautiful._

" _Yeah, Derek."_

" _He's … at work."_

 _Bos's silence speaks volumes._

" _He's a brain surgeon," Savvy offers._

" _That supposed to impress me?" Bos's laugh doesn't sound like he's smiling._

" _I'm just saying." Savvy sighs. She's not going to try to convince Bos. Not when she's not totally sure of it herself. He'd never buy it anyway: her mama always says Bos has a nose for the truth._

" _I know what you're saying, sugar. But wasn't he supposed to be … "_

 _He doesn't have to say it: meant to be._

 _Savvy sighs. "Yeah. He was."_

 _There's another long silence. It's in these moments like these Boswell reminds her of her daddy. He'd get real quiet when he was thinking hard, but he'd think so hard sometimes he didn't even have to say it._

" _All right, Sissy," Bos says finally. "Eaves'll meet us in Charlotte, and … we'll see what we can do."_

.-.-.

"He knows," Savvy repeats. "And they talked, Weiss. They really talked."

He cups her cheek. "Sav, if it's meant to be …"

"It _is_ meant to be. You know the island doesn't lie."

"Honey…"

"Don't _honey_ me," she says firmly. "You know it as well as I do, Weiss."

"I just don't want you to be disappointed," he says.

"I'm not going to be. You saw them tonight," Savvy repeats. "They were close. They were – like they used to be."

Weiss nods.

"And Derek, when we talked before – he still loves her, Weiss, I know he does. And she still loves him."

He doesn't say anything.

"If he loves her and she loves him and they _actually_ talked, and they _actually_ heard each other … then there's nothing else in the way." Her voice fades a little. "Right?"

Weiss rests a hand on her shoulder.

"I need some white lightning," Savvy says after a moment, and he can't disagree.

.-.-.

Derek's pajamas are wrinkled.

She takes note of it, files it away for later. With time ticking away, every observation is spoken in silence. If this is their last night together, she's going to remember it.

His pajamas are wrinkled because he never unpacked his suitcase. Because he's used to her doing it for him, and he was too stubborn and angry to let her do it. Because he was proving a point with each crease in the fabric.

He doesn't seem stubborn tonight, or angry. She almost wishes he could be; it might make the lump in her throat settle. It's taking all her waning energy to keep tears back, to keep from grabbing him the way she did in the foyer of their brownstone.

 _If you go now …_

She doesn't wait for him to finish brushing his teeth. She joins him in the bathroom, where the repaired door hangs half open and he's standing quietly in front of the mirror with his wrinkled pajama pants settled on his hips. He gives her a brief, foamy half-smile, the kind that would make her laugh or protest, and wordlessly squeezes a neat line of toothpaste onto her brush.

They stand side by side, brushing their teeth in silence.

If it's their last night together, she should consider a grand gesture. She should – do something, but what she does is the most mundane of nightly routines. Brush, spit, rinse. He reaches out to move some of her hair out of the way so he can lean over and spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. He's been doing that since med school, after they crowded around his tiny student sink one morning and he accidentally spat a mouthful of mint foam into her long hair.

She tastes the words, _you're leaving._ The word _goodbye._

She swallows air too dry for tears.

After their apologies, after their forgiveness, after their meeting in the middle of the chasm that started between them two years ago and fractured irreparably when he walked in on her with Mark.

After her crisis and his unlikely rescue, after the indescribable closeness of the healing spring, after the cradle of the weathered porch swing lulling them into confession.

After eleven years of marriage and less than a week on the island.

After all of that, what's left is just the two of them.

 _AddisonandDerek_.

That's it.

They don't speak in the bed that seemed horrifically small when they first saw the room, but now seems like a yawning gap that neither one can cross. She stares at the ceiling fan, the dangling cord fashioned like a slender metal reed.

The space between them disappears.

She's not sure who moves first, only that she's holding on as tightly as he is. Or maybe he's holding on as tightly as she is. And then he pulls back, his tone alarmed.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No." She pulls him closer again. "Derek … I'm not going to break."

But she's lying.

And maybe she already has.

Silence descends, salty island air blowing through the open windows, the fan circling gently above them. She rests her cheek against his faintly scratchy one; his hair moves gently from her breath as she whispers one last apology.

 _Don't_ , he says, so she stops.

She wants to say, _don't forget me._

She wants to say, _tell this intern she doesn't know, she can't know, who you are, but I hope she's not stupid enough to let you go._

She doesn't dare to want to say, _stay._

 _Don't go._

It would be too selfish, after what she did to him.

He forgave her – she believes that – and maybe, if the warmth of his arms now are any indication, his palm cradling her head like he used to, a part of him still loves her. Or loves what they had, anyway. Their youthfully innocent relationship. Everything her night with Mark ruined.

She'll mourn him tomorrow, when he leaves, but she can't breathe if _tomorrow_ is real so she pushes it out of her mind instead. There's nothing between them but a breath; his lips are on hers, so gentle and soft she might have imagined it.

"Derek…"

"I'm sorry," he whispers, but she arches her neck to kiss him back, and lets the movement of his lips quiet the racing thoughts in her head the way only he can.

He strokes her hair away from her face, the arc of moonlight crossing their room illuminating his expression.

His eyes look so sad.

Then his lips are on hers again, and she kisses him to keep from crying.

Her fingers tangle in his curls.

She mouths how she'll miss him against his collarbone, he holds her intently and when she pulls him even closer he gasps into her neck.

"Addison."

She ignores him at first, knowing how little time they have left, but he says, "we can't," and she remembers how he objected at first to her getting into the spring for the healing ritual, afraid of infection.

"It's too soon," he says softly.

"It's okay," she tries to assure him, pulling him close again, "the spring …"

"It's not magic, Addie."

She can't counter that.

She can't plead because he's too determined, but even as his ragged breathing evens out he doesn't leave her.

He stays.

He stays suspended over her, propped on his elbows, so that his body covers hers with all of its warmth and none of its weight. She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering him with her other senses: the hollow of his shoulder, the rhythmic sound of his breath, the feel of his faintly scratchy jaw against her hand. He smells like himself but also like the island: reedy and a bit salty.

If this is all she has left, she'll take it.

She can appreciate that it's _him_. It's Derek, her husband; it's not the stranger in a cashmere coat who pretended not to see her at the Charlotte airport.

If this is all she has left … she's grateful.

The night is long and stretches caramel thin, neither of them – it seems – quite willing to go to sleep. She's reminded of the nights they'd spend together when they still lived separately. They were young and in love and time was still flexible enough that if they didn't close their eyes, they wouldn't need to separate.

 _Stay_ , she doesn't say, to the rhythm of his fingers in her hair.

She's not sure who's leading and who's following by the time they slip reluctantly into sleep.

* * *

 _To be continued._ _Before you throw things, remember that this was originally part of the last chapter. And I don't just say that to remind you how out of control the lengths of my chapters are, but to remind you there's a plan in place. I know sometimes these guys move slowly, or stand still, or step backwards, or shuffle around where we really want them to be. But they're moving. Stick with them, and me, and we will get there. There's still (part of) one more day left on the island together, after all. Reviews feed my soul like hot chocolate and fireworks so please review and let me know your thoughts!_


	22. you'll know me in the morning

**A/N:** Welcome back to the island. Thank you so much for your response to this story, which is super appreciated and gratifying. I wanted to finish this story in June so I could wrap up a WIP in one year, but I'm me and I didn't. That said, I'm close. This is the second to last full chapter. The last one is very close to done, so I plan to post it soon. Thank you as always for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _22\. you'll know me in the morning_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

" _You sure you're ready to go back?"_

 _Addie nods._

 _Savvy glances uncertainly from her boyfriend to her brother. Weiss is resting a hand on her shoulder, big and reassuring._

" _It hasn't been that long," Savvy starts, her voice low. "What if – "_

" _The island knows, Sav," Bos says gently. "You know that."_

 _All she can do to that is nod, but when she lowers her eyes past the dock, to the scrubby sand out a ways ahead, she lets out a little gasp of shock._

" _Sav?"_

" _Bos, look!" Savvy points down the sand._

" _Well, I'll be." His eyes widen. "I didn't see that there before."_

" _See what?" Weiss asks._

" _Maybe it wasn't there before," Savvy says._

 _She crouches down to pick up the starfish and shows it to Weiss and Addie._

 _Addie looks better, so much better, with color in her cheeks, her hair moving in the soft island breeze. The sun has touched her – and more than the sun, but Savvy has stayed out of that, trusting in her best friend and her brother and the island itself._

 _All she knows is every morning Addie has looked a little stronger, a little more like herself. A banged-up version of herself, maybe, but standing up a little taller. Smiling a little more, looking less afraid. The nightmares stopped after only a few days. She knows her brother gets some of the credit for that._

 _Her leg isn't bandaged up any more. The doctor stuff, they can deal with that on the mainland. Here on the island covering things up is no way to fix them. There are healing waters, natural salts and minerals. Sunshine._

 _And time, long golden hours of time._

 _Time slows down on the island, it always has. Just like every magical summer of her childhood, running down the shell beach hand in hand with Augie, chasing after the boys. The island was their playground and a mystery too, known and unknown all at once._

 _The island does that with children, cradles them. Nurtures them. Grows them taller than they really need to be, that's what her daddy used to joke. Blonder from the sun, too. Tan and rosy. The island heals, and the island also leaves its own marks._

" _You know how rare that is?" Bos looks impressed, and Bos never looks impressed._

" _We used to look for them all the time when we were kids," Savvy says, even though she knows Addie knows it just as well as Weiss does. Their histories are intertwined by now, the stories they told each other come alive._

" _You found it, sissy." Bos glances from Addison to Savvy. "It's your wish."_

" _I know." Savvy studies the starfish in her hands. She leans a little against Weiss. He just feels so good, so real and solid next to her._

" _Go on, then," Bos urges. "Or did you want to wait for the tide to drag us back to shore?"_

" _Don't rush me." Savvy frowns._

" _Rush you?" Bos's tone is incredulous._

" _You know she likes to take her time to choose," Weiss adds, his voice gently teasing, and Addie actually smiles, a little. Savvy's heart feels warmer just at the sight of it._

 _It's Addie all right, the same Addie who'd tease her when they shopped together, that she couldn't even pick which boutique to start in and then once she did, oh, just wait until she had to choose which blouse to try on first._

 _Bos has his arm around Addie – kind and gentlemanly, like their mama would approve, nothing more than that. She appreciates it and she thinks Addie does too. She's better, so much better, but she still gets tired._

 _And the island knows, Savvy knows it knows and yet … it's still hard to leave._

 _The mainland waits for them, but the mainland hasn't been waiting._

 _Time moves ahead, there._

 _They've already missed the first two days of classes, up at school. And it's no short drive back, not even going straight with no stops._

 _Savvy isn't worried for herself – she can write a paper in her sleep at this point – and she knows Weiss feels the same way. Addie, though, with her hectic pre-med schedule – it's a little different for her. She can get extensions, waivers, after her injuries, but Addie won't want to, she knows her better than that. Plus, there's the little matter of skipping out on Health Services._

 _Addie is smart, smarter than anyone Savvy knows. She won't fall behind._

" _Sav." Bos is looking at her. "I'll take that wish if you're not gonna use it, but be forewarned I'm just gonna wish that you would hurry up."_

 _Savvy laughs in spite of herself. "Fine," she says, then pauses. "Addie – come with me," she says._

 _Addie looks a little uncertain._

" _Just down the beach," Savvy says quickly. "Right there."_

" _What about us?" Bos asks. "What are we, chopped Beaufort sausage?"_

" _No boys allowed," Savvy says primly, nodding with finality when her brother frowns. "Girls only. We'll just be a minute."_

" _They're never just a minute," Bos mutters to Weiss, who nods in agreement. Those two have been thick as thieves on this trip, and she can't complain._

" _We will be this time," Savvy says firmly. She holds out her hand. "Addie, c'mon."_

 _They keep hold of each other's hands as they walk down the beach, like Savvy used to do with Augie when she was smaller and toddling, not so steady on her feet yet. Addie's no toddler but she's only just regained her footing her on the island. In some ways, she's only just learned to stand again. To walk._

 _Savvy doesn't make her walk far, aware that she'll get tired. Plus, she knows the spot when she sees it, just as she knew she would._

" _Addie." Savvy releases her friend's hand, and instead rests one of own hands on one of Addie's shoulders. "We used to look for starfish all the time when we were little kids. And when we were bigger kids. A starfish is a powerful thing on the island."_

" _You can make a wish," Addie murmurs, remembering._

" _Yeah, that's right. We'll give the starfish back to the ocean and make a wish. Give to get."_

 _Addie nods._

 _Savvy glances back up the beach. Bos and Weiss are deep in conversation that she can't see, with lots of gestures on Weiss's part. He has to tilt his head a little – he's not short, Weiss, but Bos is silly tall, as their daddy used to say. Everyone has to look up to Bos. Well, everyone except Beau, anyway._

 _They seem to sense her looking and Bos makes a point of tapping his wrist – where a wristwatch would sit, if anyone on the island wore a wristwatch._

 _She turns back to Addie. "Okay," she says. "We don't have a lot of time, so here goes."_

" _What are you wishing?" Addie asks suddenly. She hasn't been talking that much, all on her own – answering questions, sure, but just to pop out with that makes Savvy's eyes widen. Addie misreads her expression. "Oh, you can't tell me," she murmurs. "Or it won't come true."_

" _That's not the case on the island," Savvy assures her. "I can tell you."_

 _She wraps an arm around Addie, drawing her gently in, so that when she murmurs her wish just inches from the salt-scented surface of the starfish, they can both hear it._

 _And then Savvy draws back her arm and throws the starfish back into the ocean._

 _They both watch the ocean welcome it back, curling mightily around that one tiny starfish._

 _And then it's gone, her wish swept out to sea._

" _Sav …." Addie shakes her head, and her eyes are bright with tears. "You shouldn't have wasted your wish on me."_

" _I wouldn't have to, if you didn't say nonsense like that." Savvy takes her hand again, squeezes gently. "Don't you get it, Addie? It's not wasted, not on you. It's meant to be."_

 _Addie looks at her for a moment, one of the tears escaping to slide down her cheek. Very carefully, Savvy brushes it away._

" _Sav …" Addie stares down at the sand._

" _I know." Savvy squeezes her hand again. "I'm not sure I'm ready to leave yet, either. But Addie, Bos is right. The island knows. The island always knows when it's time."_

 _Addie nods, still looking doubtful._

" _And you'll be back. The island'll welcome you back just like the ocean did that starfish."_

" _How do you know that?"_

" _Because it's meant to be, Addie. That's how the island works." Savvy brushes her sandy hands off on her shorts and gestures up the beach toward the boys._

 _Addie nods, and starts walking. Then she pauses._

" _Ad?"_

" _Magic," Addie murmurs, giving one last glance behind her at the ocean._

 _Savvy can't argue with that. She just links her arm through her best friend's – her miraculously healing best friend – and together they cover the rest of the sand to the dock._

* * *

.-.-.

* * *

She wakes like she does most mornings: before the alarm, in stages, and the first one is the nicest: her cheek against his heartbeat, his warmer body – he's always warmer – firm and strong underneath hers. She exhales a little sigh and cuddles closer. They need to get up for work, but another minute or two until the alarm goes off won't-

And then a loud clanging – like an old-fashioned bell – rips through the room, and she jumps, and so does he, underneath her, and –

"Addie – it's okay, it's just the breakfast bell."

The breakfast bell –

Her whole body tenses with shock and then recognition as she relaxes against him again. Of course. They're not in their sleigh bed at home in New York. They're here on the island, on St. Cera's, except they're different too, and Derek is looking at her so gently that it makes her throat feel thick.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Sorry," she says quickly. "Just – I forgot where we were for a minute."

"Yeah." He moves some of her hair away from her face, smoothing it a little. "We, uh, we should probably get up. We don't want to wear shades of shame, not on our …."

His voice trails off, before he can finish: _not on our last day._

She's flooded with sensations from the night before, his familiar arms and voice and hands, the welcome pressure of his body and the sense of loss when she realized it was too soon for them to let their emotions take over.

But he stayed.

He stayed, and she slept in his arms, and her whole body aches from it. Not with pain but with longing and it's a physical stress, the stretch of a rubber band, when she makes herself nod and draw back so that he can get up first.

Derek always gets up first.

He lingers for a moment, his eyes lowered, before he swings his legs out of bed, the same way he always has. He sits on the edge for a moment, and she can't resist crawling across the bed to press herself against his back like she used to at home when they acted out this same morning routine, seeking his heat and the comforting feeling of his muscles against her.

She rests her cheek against the muscles of his back. His skin is warm and he feels strong and real. Solid.

"Addison?" He glances back at her. He looks … worried.

That's not fair to him, not after all he's done for her.

"I'm okay," she says. "I was just warming up."

"Okay," he repeats. "Good."

She watches him walk into the attached bathroom, hugging herself a little amidst the soft blankets.

.-.-.

"Okay, Sav, that was some of my best work, and you're still talking about Derek and Addison." Weiss props himself up on one elbow. "A less confident man might be a little offended."

"I just think we should head down to breakfast," Savvy says, not meeting his eyes, glancing instead out the window at the hanging foliage.

"What's the rush?" he asks, placing a hand on her bare arm. He rubs his thumb over her soft skin.

"Um …."

He loves how easy it is to distract her. Easy, and rewarding.

"Russ and Augie are on this morning," she manages to say finally. "And _stop_ that."

"Stop touching you," he says doubtfully. "You really want me to?"

"No," she admits. "But I want to go help Augie at the hearth. It's their last day and there's a lot to do."

"And you want to ask them if Derek said anything about whether he's still boating to the mainland with them." Weiss shakes his head. "You are uncharacteristically transparent this morning, counselor."

Savvy smiles a little, then more broadly when Weiss pins her to the mattress. "You're officially banned from talking about Derek in bed," he announces. "Got it?"

She widens her blue eyes innocently, staring up at the ceiling fan.

"You're not the boss of me," she says.

"Oh yeah?" He folds his fingers through hers and stretches her hands over her head. "That's not what I heard."

"Well." She wriggles under him, little breathy sounds of pleasure driving him crazy. "I suppose on the island, anything is possible … ."

He succeeds in distracting her. Fully this time.

Until a second loud clanging interrupts them.

"The late bell." Savvy scrambles out from underneath him. " _Don't_ you make me late, Weiss, you remember how embarrassing that was in – "

"1994?" Weiss shakes his head. "Not everyone can have a perfect record, babe."

"Everyone knew what we were doing! Beau didn't let us hear the end of it for … how many years?"

"Well, we were newlyweds," he reminds her.

"What's our excuse now?"

"We're … still newlyweds?" He grins at her.

"Very funny." She pulls her nightdress over her head – light and floaty, it always reminds her of the island. "Weiss, get up, honey, come on!"

"I'm enjoying the view."

"You're ridiculous," she informs him, but she can't help a little smile. She gets dressed as quickly as she can to avoid being late, but she does let him watch.

Finally he's dressed too and they're scrambling down the stairs, headed for the hearth.

"Now I'm too late to help Augie." Savvy shakes her head.

"You can help her serve," Weiss points out. "And maybe assigning them breakfast on her last day wasn't the best idea."

"Leaving's no excuse for not cooking, don't you remember?" Savvy pushes her hair behind her ears. It's a little brisk out still, with the promise of sunshine. "We just don't have that much time, honey. Derek was going to go with them to the mainland."

"I know that." Weiss pauses. "Wait. _Was_?" He raises his eyebrows, brushing away some low-hanging foliage so Savvy can walk under it.

"Thanks," she says. "And yeah, _was_ , or at least I'm hoping _was._ They talked, baby, they really talked. And I don't think they're going to leave this island apart. Not anymore. And _don't_ look at me like that, I'm allowed to talk about Derek if we're not in bed."

"Cousin Savvy," a female voice says brightly, stepping on some cracking leaves, "don't mind me, I'm right behind you."

Savvy's cheeks flush. "Uh – morning, Millie. How long've you been walking with us?"

"I'd say just long enough," her cousin replies with a smile. "but don't worry, Sav, whatever the two – _or_ three – of y'all get up to in bed is none of my business."

"Millie!"

But her cousin just flashes her another big grin and jogs down the rest of the path.

Savvy glares at Weiss. "I hope you're happy."

"How is this my fault?"

"I don't know," Savvy says grumpily. "It just is."

"Then I'm sorry." Weiss wraps an arm around her. "Look, babe, there's a lot going on this morning. I don't think Millie's going to remember for long – "

" – that we're swingers?" Savvy says. "I mean, that she _thinks_ we're swingers? Weiss, think about where we are. People _remember_ what King George was wearing the day he signed the deed to this island. And he wasn't even a swinger!"

"… that we know of," Weiss corrects.

He's shaking his head, but he's not going to object when Savvy is smiling and now laughing, her blue eyes bright. Sometimes a little silliness is what people need, and somehow the island seems to know just when that is.

.-.-.

The hearth feels familiar.

Normal.

How can it feel normal, when every inch of her is screaming, _tell him not to go?_

But it does.

It feels exactly the same, warm with the smells of cooking food and hot coals. She doesn't even remember how they got ready, how they stumbled out here to the hearth.

But now, without discussing it, she and Derek stand by the massive burbling coffee percolator in the pale morning sunshine and take turns drinking from the sole mug they brought from Reeds.

"It's going to feel strange having my own cup again," Derek says. His tone is light, but she swallows hard at the painful reminder that he's leaving.

He glances at her.

"Addison," he says quietly.

She can't meet his eyes, guilt flooding her.

"That's right," she says, forcing a hearty tone, "you'll be free to poison your coffee with as much milk as you want."

"Milk … is great."

"No. Milk is vile," she says, just like she used to.

"Actually, milk and coffee go together perfectly," he corrects her, and then he stops talking.

The rest of it, the part he forgot to say, is _just like us._ _Milk and coffee are like Derek and Addison,_ he should say, and then she'll say, _you mean Addison and Derek._

She hastens to fill the silence by gathering a tin bowl for each of them and moving down the breakfast line, but her heart is thumping with the realization that there is no more _Addison and Derek._

Like what she prefers to drink, _just coffee_. That's all she is now.

Just ... Addison.

Alone.

.-.-.

It's impossible to get Addison alone at breakfast, which shouldn't surprise him because _alone_ doesn't seem to be a concept the Beauforts value very strongly.

Like every other breakfast he's witnessed on the island, there are blond children running in groups down the scruffy path, along the beach, gathered in groups at the hearth seeking breakfast and teasing each other. And then the adults, no less blond, are spread out on the rough-hewn log benches and gathered around the large open stove, helping to cook. The tin dishes clank, the children's shouts rend the air.

Addison flits here and there, helping Augie and Russ and Savvy with breakfast duties. He finds himself sitting alone on one of the rough-hewn log benches, trying to decide how much more of the admittedly delicious prize-pig sausage he wants to eat this morning.

"Mister Derek."

He looks up to see Beau's daughter Avery. She's standing in front of him holding a mug in two hands with what looks like hot chocolate. And, based on the dark ring around her little mouth, he's pretty sure he's right.

"Good morning, Avery."

"Morning," she says brightly. "How come you're not cooking breakfast today?"

"It wasn't my turn," he says.

"Oh." She tilts her little head, considering this. "I had fun when I was your sous-chef," she says, smiling at him.

For some reason, his throat feels thick. This small person, one of so many on the island – who is half-Beau on top of that – shouldn't make him sad. He's not sure what's going on, so he just swallows hard.

"I had fun too," he says truthfully.

"Can we do it again tomorrow?"

"I'm not going to be here tomorrow, Avery."

"How come?"

He glances around the hearth but everyone else is busy with their own conversations. No one is coming to his rescue. "Because I have to go home," he says. "I need to go back to work. People, uh, people are depending on me."

Why is he trying to justify himself to a three-year-old?

Avery's eyes widen with interest. "Are you a fireman?" she asks eagerly.

"No," he says. "I'm a doctor."

"Oh. Um … that's good too," she says politely.

He finds himself smiling.

"But are you gonna come back here?" Avery asks.

" … that's not up to him, now, is it?" Beau has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and he raises an eyebrow at Derek. He has one of the omnipresent striped cloth napkins in his hand, which he takes to Avery's face despite her protests. "Hold still," he instructs her, wiping the chocolate from around her mouth, "unless you want the bees mixing you up with their breakfast."

" _Are_ you coming back?" Avery asks once Beau has released her face.

Beau intercedes again, before he can answer. "You know how it works, Avery Grace." He takes the hot chocolate from her hand and sets it on the stone bench next to Derek, then lifts her up. "The island decides when we come and go."

"I know that," Avery says, playing with the collar of Beau's polo shirt. "Just I liked when Mister Derek was here."

Beau is quiet for a moment. Derek says nothing.

Finally, Beau clears his throat. "All right, you go on now, sweetheart. Minna's looking for you."

"Minna's leaving too!" Avery cries as if she's just remembered.

"That's right. You don't have much time left to play with her this morning." Beau sets her down on her feet. "You'll be saying goodbye before you know it … so don't waste time."

Avery skips off down the path, her blonde curls bouncing.

Beau turns to Derek, shaking his head. "I can't say much for my girl's taste, but she's certainly taken a liking to you."

Derek accepts the ribbing; Beau's tone is free from hostility, much more like the joshing that seems to characterize all the Beauforts' conversations with each other. "I think she's the smartest of your five," he says.

To his mild surprise, Beau throws back his head and laughs. "Not bad, Shepherd, not bad." He pauses. "So. Russ and Augie want to head out by eleven," he says. "I'm ferrying them, I've got some business on the mainland. Eaves'll meet us there. That should give all of y'all plenty of time to make your flights in Charlotte." He pauses. "You still planning on heading to the mainland with us?"

Derek nods. "I … have a flight," he says when Beau seems to be expecting an answer.

"That you do. Hey," Beau says as if he's just thought of something, "you know, I need your help for a few moments if you've got it. With the boat."

Derek looks helplessly at the gathered Beauforts, and once again no one steps in to save the conversation. "Sure," he says finally, and after letting Addison know where he's going, he follows Beau down to the dock.

.-.-.

Addison helps with the dishes – there's no _leaving today_ exception on the island, and she wants to help Russ and Augie finish up in time to pack. Several other cousins had the same idea, and when they quickly finish she sees Savvy gesture to her, as if she wants to talk.

Nodding, Addison holds up one finger in response.

 _Wait._

There's something she has to do first.

Her cell phone heavy in her pocket, feeling strangely bulky here on the island where she's unencumbered by so many things, she makes her way to the reeds where they had their last conversation. The signal is strong here, it seems.

She rubs absentmindedly at her ankles with her free foot when the plants make her skin itch. The sun is heavy as it makes its way higher in the sky, and her heart thumps in time with _eleven o'clock._

It's soon.

Time is slow on the island, but in the rest of the word – time moves ahead.

And she is running out of it.

Taking a deep breath, she dials his number.

"Long time no speak," Mark says in lieu of greeting, his tone friendly.

"Yeah." She crouches to pluck a reed from the ground, twisting it in her hands. "Well. It's been busy here."

"Lots of nature and that kind of thing, huh? Any skinny dipping to report?"

"No."

"Addison – "

"Mark, just stop. Just – listen to me for a minute."

She can hear him breathing on the other end of the phone, as silent as Mark can be.

"Things … have changed," she says carefully.

"Didn't I tell you not to run away with Derek?" his tone is playful; if there's more underneath it she can't hear it.

"I'm not. Derek is leaving today, actually."

"Oh." Mark sounds surprised. "He's going back to – where is he again?"

"Seattle."

"Right." Mark makes a derisive noise. "Hell of a downgrade, don't you think?"

"And I'm coming back to New York," she continues, her voice shaking a little. "I have a flight back on Thursday."

"Well, all right then. So what's the issue?"

"I'm coming back," she repeats, "but it's not going to be the same. I can't do it anymore, Mark, I don't even know what I was thinking, but I – I'm sorry."

She hears him breathing again. Somehow, actually saying the words is easier than dreading them.

"It's over," she says.

"Yeah. I'm getting that." His tone is … neutral.

"It wasn't right, Mark. What we did."

"I know that." He sounds grudging, but truthful, and then she feels guilty. It's not only his fault. It's both of theirs.

"Look, I needed you, when Derek left, and – you were there, and it must seem ungrateful of me now, I know."

"It's not tit for tat, Addison. Although …."

She can hear the smirk in his voice.

Yeah. He's going to be fine.

"I'm sorry," she says again. She's about to say, _I'll get my stuff_ , but she brought so little to his place there's not much to get.

She wasn't living there so much as marking time.

"So you're not running away with Derek, but you're not coming back to me," Mark says. He sounds semi-interested, and not accusatory at all.

"That's right." She rubs the reed between her fingers, welcoming the prickly sensation to distract herself from the reminder that she's going to be alone.

But it doesn't hurt quite as much as she thought, somehow.

It aches – but there's a little comfort too, a reminder that she's doing this for Derek. That he'll be happier this way.

"Derek's still breathing fire, huh?"

"No," she says, keeping her tone neutral. "No. We, uh, I guess we worked things out."

Mark whistles down the phone line and she winces.

"Not like that," she adds. "Mark, I need to go."

"Sure." But he's not hanging up. "Hey, Addison – "

"Yeah?"

"You think he'll ever talk to me again?"

Mark sounds hopeful, young.

And she realizes maybe it wasn't about her at all.

Maybe she and Mark both wanted the same thing when they turned to each other.

"Give him a little time," she says gently. "A little space. But – yes, I think he will."

"Really?"

"He's pretty forgiving," Addison reminds him.

 _Maybe too forgiving._

But she can't miss the relief in the way Mark says goodbye, and she's glad she was able to give him that.

Nor can she miss the lightness in her own heart as she snaps her phone shut and makes her way back through the reeds to Savvy.

.-.-.

Derek glances out at the river. "You know … if you wanted to talk to me, you could have just said so."

"What's that mean?" asks Bos, who met them down at the dock and is currently on his knees leaning into the runabout.

"It means … it's not much of a cover, asking me to help with the boat."

"It's no cover," Beau says. "We needed a warm pair of hands. We're not picky."

"Except there are a dozen Beauforts on the island who are better with boats than I am. And one of them is married to you," he adds, glancing at Bos.

"Shepherd, I've never heard you sound so humble," Bos says. "And you know, I kind of like it. Except the part where you're accusing me and my _very_ honest cousin of deception. Us!" He widens his eyes, and under the thatch of blond hair he manages to look like an overgrown angel.

Beau raises a conciliatory hand. "Look, Derek, you're here now, and the boat – well, she needs three of us. So can we count on you or not?"

Derek glances at the shining surface of the runaround, and then back at the beach, and then at the two blond men standing shoulder to shoulder, watching him.

"Yeah. You can count on me."

"Look," Beau says quietly, "we don't want to take away from your time with Addie. We just wanted to talk to you. You're still planning on hitting the mainland this morning."

Derek nods. "I have a flight."

"Derek." Bos shakes his head. "Why are you leaving without Addie?"

"She's staying," he says.

"Yeah, that's not an answer." Beau tosses him a rag.

Derek glances at it. "What's this?" he asks, realization dawning. "That's what you needed my urgent help with? Cleaning her?"

"She's had some extra workouts lately," Beau says, raising an eyebrow.

Derek sighs. He walked right into that one.

"Do you really need three people to clean one boat?" he asks.

"If they're all as slow as you … then yes," Beau says, smirking. "Get scrubbing," he adds, pointing to the boat, and he picks up his own rag to join the work.

They clean in silence for several minutes, the sun warm on their necks.

Finally, Derek sits back on his heels. "What do you want from me?"

"Elbow grease," Beau says. "That's all."

"Fine."

They go back to scrubbing.

Bos is next to toss down his rag. "Derek. You talked to her. Didn't you?"

No need to clarify who _her_ is this time. It's certainly not a boat.

"Yes, I talked to her."

" _Talked_ talked," Bos clarifies.

Derek nods.

"Then why aren't you staying here too?"

"Because I'm leaving."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, it's the best one I've got."

"Then do better!" Beau points a finger at him, sounding intense – almost angry. "Boy, how can you let her get away after all this, after – "

"Because I love her!" Derek snaps.

There's a lull in which the only sounds are crickets and the other small creatures who make the island home. Water sloshes against the side of the boat.

"Well," Beau says, his tone a little different now, "all right then."

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"I don't want to hurt her," Derek says quietly. "There's been enough – it's been enough."

"You don't think it will hurt her if you leave?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

Derek just shakes his head.

"Fine." Beau points at the bucket. "If you're not gonna talk, then make yourself useful."

They scrub in silence, punctured by Bos's occasional whistling. The tune is vaguely familiar, a hymn of some sort.

"I found a starfish," Derek blurts finally.

Bos stops whistling.

The boat goes silent again.

"Here, on the island," Beau says after a moment.

"Here," Derek confirms.

"Do you know about – "

"Yeah, I know."

"So, what did you wish?" Bos asks.

"I don't think I'm supposed to – "

"On the island, you're supposed to," Beau says.

Derek sits back on his heels. "I wished that I could make things right," he says, "that I could stop hurting her."

Bos and Beau exchange a glance.

"Did you remember to throw the starfish back?" Bos asks doubtfully.

"How stupid do you think he is?" Beau chides.

"You really want me to answer that?"

"I threw it back," Derek interrupts, before they can continue bickering.

"And the legend is if you give it back to the ocean, your wish will come true. You can't get something for nothing," Bos recites. "Give to get. So. If that was your wish, how do you figure this plan of yours?"

"This is how I do it," he says. "This is how I stop hurting her. It wasn't good," he says finally, "our marriage, the last couple of years. I was … absent," he admits. "I was indifferent, and I hurt her."

Beau and Bos are listening quietly with something like respect, all traces of amusement gone from their similar faces.

"But now you know it," Beau says, his tone surprisingly gentle, "which means you can fix it."

Derek shakes his head. He has a flash of a younger Addison, the one he didn't know, crumpled at the foot of a staircase he's never seen. Then his Addison, lingering at the foot of a different staircase, trying to get his attention. Then it's Addison barely a month ago, crouched at the bottom of that same staircase, struggling with him while he pried her hands from the banister.

A door slams.

In his memory.

On his marriage.

He feels the sting of failure, of regret.

"There's too much water under the bridge," he says finally, realizing both men are still waiting for an answer.

"Derek, you're a fisherman, you must know that water under the bridge is a good thing." Beau exchanges a glance with Bos. "You ever get stuck on a shallow pass after a dry spell?"

Derek doesn't answer.

"Look, how long since you two – fifteen years?"

"Sixteen," he admits.

"Sixteen. There should be water after sixteen years. Lots of water," Beau continues. "You just have to ride it in the right direction."

Derek glances out at Three Rivers, the constant motion of the water. He sees the distant silvery jump of a fish, and the splash it leaves behind. _Lots of water._ Well, the island certainly has that.

She shakes his head a little to clear it.

"Not everything is an island metaphor," he reminds the cousins.

"True," Bos says thoughtfully. "But … some things are."

Derek sighs. "Let me guess," he says. "You know it's an island metaphor … if it's an island metaphor."

"That's circular," Beau says.

"So's the island, Derek replies, raising an eyebrow at the cousins' twin looks of surprise. "All clean," he says before they can respond, tossing the rag over the side of the bucket. "Am I excused?"

"Yeah, get out of here," Beau says, gesturing toward the dock. He sounds weary, and when Derek glances back on his way up the path he sees the two men are still deep in conversation, heads bowed.

.-.-.

"Where's Derek?" Savvy asks when Addison catches up to her. Together, they make their way down the sun-faded stones that make up this path to the beach.

"Helping Beau with the runabout. Bos too."

"Beau doesn't need help with the runabout," Savvy says, looking confused. "She's all ready to go to the mainland this morning."

"But he said – " Addison stops, nodding. "Oh. Well, I guess I let Derek get railroaded again."

"Derek's a pretty smart guy," Savvy says gently. "I don't think he'd've gone with Beau and Bos if he didn't want to. He would've known they wanted to talk."

Addison looks out at the ocean.

"They don't need to … get involved," Addison says finally.

" _Get_ involved? Honey, they're already involved. We're all involved."

"I'm sorry." Addison takes one of Savvy's hands in hers. "I didn't want that, I came here to support you, Sav, not to make everything about me."

"You have supported me," Savvy assures her, "and I'm grateful for it and I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Addie. No more than you should expect _me_ to stay out of this."

"You don't have to stay out of it. I just – I don't want to disappoint you," Addison admits.

"It's not me I'm worried will be disappointed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that right now, Derek is still planning to leave."

"Right."

"And you haven't asked him to stay."

"No."

"And is that because you don't want him to stay, or you can't because you're afraid he'll say no?"

"Neither." Addison shakes her head. "He's happier out there, Sav. He's started over. He deserves that." She pauses, then speaks again before her friend can. "Savvy … I talked to Mark."

She doesn't have to tell her what she said. She knows Savvy can tell, just from her tone. Just from her face. She knows her that well.

"I'm proud of you, Addie."

"It was time," Addison says simply.

"So you finished it with Mark," Savvy recounts, "and that's over, but Derek – "

"I can't." Addison shakes her head. "It's not one or the other, Sav, like you said. Derek deserves more than that."

"But maybe he wants that," Savvy says tentatively. "Addie … look, you two have been out of step for a while. And you were out of step when you go here, that's for sure. But things are different. You know they're different."

Addison nods.

"I told you I'd support you no matter who you chose, or what you chose, and I meant it, Addie."

"But …" Addison prompts, recognizing the syntax.

" _But_ … maybe you're finally back in sync – and if you are, just please don't let him leave, not like this, not unless you _want_ him to leave."

"I can't ask him to stay, Savvy, he wants to go."

"But he doesn't know you want him to stay!" Savvy says.

"And I can't tell him that! I can't ask him to stay when he wants to go."

Savvy pulls at the ends of her long blonde hair, a gesture Addison remembers intimately from their college days. Frustration. Sheer frustration. "You know what, Addie? You two truly deserve each other."

"You make that sound so … insulting." Addison laughs.

Just a little.

And then she cries, and Savvy holds onto her tightly, keeping her promise.

Around them, the white island sand stretches into the ocean. Enough sand to fill a thousand hourglasses.

What she wouldn't give for some of those hours.

Because even though the island has given her so much already – _so_ much – she still needs more.

She needs more time.

* * *

 _To be continued - very soon. I know this is a quiet time on the site (July Fourth weekendish, general malaise, heat wave? I don't know), but I also know a lot of you have expressed a desire to see this story continue and I would love to hear from you. It's incredibly motivating and I love reading your thoughts. That, and I am proud of this story - it's been a long journey, a struggle to keep my chapters winter-short, and I have truly enjoyed sharing it with you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll let me know what you think. See you next time!_

 _PS I think I stopped crediting them way back when, but every chapter title is a lyrical excerpt from a hymn and this one makes me think of this story more than any other (except for Some Bright Morning, of course). "I'll Meet You in the Morning," and it inspired several other of these chapter titles too._

 _PPS The part where they wake up together is a riff on the same scene from Chapter 7, on purpose. Not sure anyone else would notice that, but I wanted to throw it out there just in case you're a binger and 7 is fresh in your mind._


	23. we shall meet on that beautiful shore

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your response to the previous chapter, and to the story overall. I had no idea when I set out to write an expanded Savvy-and-Weiss-and-Addek story that it would become one of my favorites, or that I would get so attached to Savvy's extended family that I would try to linger on the island a little longer. But this story was actually outlined, with a plan, and I am excited to share this last (long) chapter with you. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _23\. we shall meet on that beautiful shore_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

 _Keep moving. You stop moving, you're already gone_. It's a Beaufort favorite Addison has heard many times over the years.

Is that how her feet are able to keep moving now, even though her body feels leaden, her chest tight?

Is that how his keep moving, too?

From separate directions, they meet back at Reeds, as if they planned it.

"Still just the one key," Derek comments lightly.

"Right." Addison looks down at it. "I'm not sure the others actually lock the doors, now that I think about it."

"Makes sense." Derek watches her unlock the door. "I guess we're used to a different kind of island."

She smiles a little at this, though the _we_ and the reference to their old life in Manhattan both ache.

"I guess I should …" He gestures toward the room once they're inside, with its varied sitting pieces and ceiling fan.

Pack.

Of course.

The clock on the wall of their room announces, with its reed-shaped hands, that it's already half past ten.

Addison swallows hard.

Half past ten means halfway to eleven.

The boat is leaving at eleven o'clock.

"Derek?"

"Yeah." He turns around immediately, both hands still in his suitcase – though she's not sure why; he barely unpacked anything at all. He's been living out of his suitcase, at first to spite her – rather obviously – and then he was probably busy with other things.

"Thank you for all you did, you know, when I was … well, before," she says, for lack of a better term to describe it.

Derek looks a little surprised. "You don't have to thank me," he says after a moment.

He disappears into the attached bathroom and comes back minutes later with his zippered dopp kit.

"Derek?"

She's sitting on the marriage bench now, the one where they sat together what feels like forever ago, drinking white lightning.

"Yes?"

"What, um, what happens next?"

She holds her breath a little after she says it.

He looks at her for a moment, and then sets his dopp kit in his suitcase and walks over to her.

She turns her face up to his.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says. "I don't know."

His hand rises, brushing against her cheek. She can tell that he can tell she's been crying. "Addie … what's wrong?"

 _I don't want you to go._

"Nothing," she says again. "Really. Just – you know, I was with Savvy and we were … emotional."

He nods. "About Catherine."

 _No._

"Yes. About Catherine."

Derek moves a stray lock of hair away from her face and then releases her. "Savvy's held up so well, but I guess it's good for her to … grieve. To talk about it, I mean."

"Right."

"You sure you're okay?" Derek is looking down at her, concern on his face.

It would be so easy to say _no._

To say _stay._

She's pretty sure, right now, that he would do it.

Certain, even.

His hand is loose at his sides, fingers curling slightly. She could slip her own right in …

But his bare fourth finger reminds her of what she did to him.

And that's why she can't ask him to stay.

"Derek – we should get down to the dock," she says. "Beau always says he can't abide stragglers."

.-.-.

Of course Beau _can't abide stragglers._ Derek is unsurprised; a reputation for Beau being extra tolerant? That might surprise him.

He has no interest in destroying the fragile peace he's set up with the man who's about to take him across Three Rivers. Not when Beau could easily push him out of the boat – and has before, even if he won't admit it.

Still, though, more than that, he doesn't want to hurry.

So he lingers, looking for mistakenly left possessions the way Addison always used to when they were checking out of hotel rooms together. She'd review their space with military precision, always in the same order.

He never asked her what she was so worried about leaving behind.

He never told her that as far as he was concerned the only irreplaceable thing in any of those hotel rooms … was her.

So now, when it's too late to do just that, he gives himself the small comfort of repeating her routine.

Bathroom first, vanity drawers open.

Counter scanned.

Tub checked from left to right.

Back in the bedroom, he starts with the dressers. Top to bottom. In each drawer, he looks counterclockwise.

Not left to right. You can miss things that way.

He's finally finished, after drawing back the quilt and then replacing it.

Addison has watched him quietly from the doorway this entire time, not speaking.

"You remembered," that's all she says when he glances up at her.

He takes his suitcase, and he doesn't look back.

He can't.

Instead, he pushes open the door to their room and lets his wife walk out first. He doesn't say it, but he thinks it, hard enough that maybe she can hear him respond:

 _I remember everything._

Side by side, they walk slowly down to the dock. This time the cleared path, reeds brushing their ankles in the way that's become familiar, feels all too short.

.-.-.

Once they get there, he regrets not saying something earlier.

Not goodbye. Just … whatever it is that they are going to say.

Because now they're surrounded by Beauforts, spilling off the dock onto the sandy reeds that surround it: cousins hugging Russ and Augie and Minna and talking to Beau about the plan and his route. The children are shrieking with delight at something he can't see, and it's as messily chaotic as any other Beaufort gathering.

He glances at Addison.

She's wearing her sunglasses so he can't see her expression, long hair loose and tousled down the back of her lightweight sundress. It's warm now with the sun nearly at its height. Her bare shoulders are tipped ever so slightly forward.

He sets his case down on the dock and looks around for privacy.

"Mister Derek!" Avery skips up to him, blonde curls bouncing. "Bye," she says simply, waving one of her little hands.

"Bye, Avery."

She looks from Derek to Addison. "But is – "

"Avery, let Mister Derek and Miss Addie alone." Lily, swooping in with an apologetic look. She scoops Avery to her hip and while they can hear a high-voiced protest when they leave, its individual words aren't comprehensible.

"Avery's going to miss you, I think," Addison observes.

"Just Avery?" he asks, not quite sure why he says it.

Silently, she shakes her head _no._

"Addie," he begins, but the shouting of some of the children interrupts – they're running down the dock now, weaving barefoot between the adults.

He was foolish to think he could find privacy.

There is none. Not here.

So, with nowhere to go away from the crowds, he steps closer to Addison instead.

He can't see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses.

Her question in their room at Reeds still hangs in the air like one of the droning bumblebees that keeps dipping into their space – _what happens next?_

He still hasn't answered it.

But it seems the answer is: _this._

 _This_ is what happens next, this line-drawing of goodbye, this strange noisy farewell.

A gull cries overhead.

 _I'll miss you too._

On the dock, he can see Beau loading bags onto the boat.

Before ... time was in motion. It was running.

Now?

Now, it seems, their time has run out.

.-.-.

Addison follows her husband's gaze down the dock. Beau has tossed the last of the bags aboard.

Her stomach is hollow.

"So, um." She's thankful her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses. Another group of small blond children races past them, but somehow Derek still seems like the only person on the island. "You're going," she says, trying to force heartiness into her voice. "So. Have a good trip."

"Yeah." He looks down for a moment. "Addison, listen – "

"You're going back to Seattle, Derek," she blurts. "And I'm going back to New York, and – we're still married."

"Yeah, we are." He looks away, across the river.

She studies the familiar angles of his jawline, the space where his neck hollows into the muscles of his shoulder and tries to memorize what she can in case this is the last time she sees him.

"We still have things, um, to figure out," she says carefully.

"We do." Derek nods. "I know. I can ... call you," he offers, at the same time Addison asks: "Should I call you?"

They both stop speaking, smiling a little awkwardly.

Addison takes a deep breath. "I guess I should have the lawyer … do something. You know." She's squinting behind her sunglasses now, though it's not shade her eyes are seeking. She draws another deep, shaking breath, trying to imagine facing the realities of _this_ when they're off the island. The legalities.

Derek looks at her. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"Right." She glances down at her hands, flexing them carefully. She's wearing her rings, and she notices the moment _he_ notices. Or remembers.

"Addison – "

"But you'll need your own. Lawyer, I mean. I can ask Douglass if he has a rec or … ."

"Addie, don't." The words sound raw.

She stops.

"I really am grateful for everything you did," she says, her voice low. "You … saved my life."

He looks at her for a long moment. Maybe it's not fair, that she can see his eyes – so soft, so familiar, that they still leave her weak – but he can't see hers. They're the eyes of the man who left her in New York and now they're the eyes of the man who is leaving her on the island but the rest of him is different in every way from that terrible night.

His posture, now: open.

His tone: warm, even affectionate.

His touch, when he reaches out to move a breeze blown lock of hair off her face: gentle.

So gentle it hurts.

"Anytime," he says.

Now he's looking at her again, and he gestures to her sunglasses. She could pretend she doesn't know what that slight flick of his hand means, that practiced marital shorthand, but it would be a lie. So she pushes the sunglasses up on her head.

She's not crying.

She won't cry.

"You're crying," he says quietly.

"I'm not. I mean, I am," she admits. "Sorry. I'm just … emotional." She wipes her eyes. "It's been a long week."

"Yeah." He makes a sort of almost-laugh of agreement. "But … not that long. Not since the hospital. So you need to be careful, okay? While you're on the island. Don't let the Beauforts talk you into digging a trench or raising a barn or … whatever. You're still healing."

Still healing … still raw.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't in pain, but not because of the miscarriage.

"It's okay." She rests a hand on his arm. "Really, Derek. I'll be okay."

"Yeah, you will." His eyes look very soft now. "Addie …"

"Don't miss the boat," she whispers, her chest so tight each breath hurts. Another traitorous tear slips out. "Beau won't like that."

He doesn't move, though. "Are you _sure_ you're going to be okay?" he asks.

Slowly, she nods, wiping her eyes. "Savvy's here."

"You're staying to take care of her, though," he reminds her.

"We'll take care of each other," she says. "Savvy and I … we always have."

"Yeah. I know that." He looks down for a moment.

And then he's suddenly framing her face with his hands, his gaze so focused, so intense, that she stops crying and just looks back at him.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, "for everything."

"Me too," she whispers. "For everything."

He's still holding her face, his thumbs stroking over her cheekbones and she closes her eyes for a minute, memorizing his touch one last time.

 _Stay._

"Take care of yourself," he says quietly when she opens her eyes.

"You too."

He kisses her.

It's brief, habitual: the kind of quick kiss they'd use to say goodbye or hello a dozen times in any given day, the kind that would be chaste if not for the intimacy it implies.

"Addie?"

They both look up, Derek's hands dropping back to his sides. Her face feels chilled without the warmth of his palms.

It's Savvy, who has broken out of the throng of Beauforts to approach them. "Sorry. Just Beau says he needs to get going," she says tentatively, "but Derek, if you're not – "

"He's ready," Addison tells Savvy.

 _Keep moving._

She tucks her hair behind her ears, wiping the last of her tears away.

"Go," she says to Derek, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Hurry. Beau looks mad."

He looks at her once more, as if he wants to say something else.

But he doesn't.

He leaves, walking down the dock just as she instructed him.

The wind kicks up and her heartbeat is as wild as the waving reeds, thumping her ribs in painful staccato.

He's really leaving.

He's leaving … and she can't watch.

"Sav – let's get out of here," she whispers desperately.

Savvy looks at her with concern. "Honey, don't you want to –"

"No. I already said goodbye. I can't – _please_ , Savvy," she adds, and she doesn't have to say anything else. Savvy wraps an arm around her and leads her away.

She walks away with Savvy, using all her energy not to run after him, to beg him to stay.

Not to sink to her knees in the sandy reeds and cry for everything she's lost.

With the utmost effort, she holds it in.

She holds it all in until they've reached the porch swing outside their room – no, just _her_ room now – at Reeds. From here, the boat is still a visible smudge to her, but Derek won't be able to see them.

And then, finally, she lets go of her tense muscles and sinks onto the patio swing, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, honey." She hears the creak as Savvy sits down next to her, feels the motion of her friend toeing off to rock the swing. "It's going to be okay, Addie. I swear it. I know it hurts now, but it will get better."

Savvy's voice is thick, like she's trying not to cry too.

"But it's supposed to hurt _less_ this way." Addison scrubs at her eyes, which have started to sting.

"Addie – "

"No, it's okay. It's better. He'll be happier without me, Sav, once he's – and I want him to be happy. I do."

"So … I take it you didn't tell him not to go?"

Addison's voice is shaking with the effort of holding back her tears.

"I couldn't," she says. "I couldn't tell him not to go. But he didn't want to stay. So ... it's better that way. It's going to be better, Sav, it really is," and she tries to force her mouth into a smile but the tears come anyway.

And then she doesn't speak anymore.

Savvy eases her down so her head is in her lap and just lets her cry into the soft lawn material of her sundress, stroking her hair.

Curled like this on the swing, Addison can just make out the runabout, still at the dock. They must still be preparing to leave.

She watches them until the tears blurring her eyes leave the boat unrecognizable.

She tried to keep moving. She really did.

But he's gone.

.-.-.

He makes himself walk steadily the rest of the steps down the dock, away from her.

 _Keep moving._

When he lets himself turn back to look, it can't have been more than seconds – but she's gone.

One of the cousins is grabbing his suitcase and handing it off into the boat. Confused, he turns to the closest Beaufort – it's Camden.

"Did you see – "

"Travel safe now," she says. She has a robust blond toddler on her hip, wearing overalls and a cheeky baby-toothed grin. He grabs for the lapels of Derek's coat.

He falters. Despite the ache in his chest, he can't help but smile at the beaming, rosy little face of Camden's son. "Thank you for teaching me how to cook sausages," he says after a moment.

"Thank you for wanting to learn," Camden says. She's tall enough that all she has to do is lean forward to kiss his cheek. "I hope you find what you need on the mainland, Derek."

Shouts and plans and conversation, words, _so many words_ , jostling shoulders and windblown blond hair and it's all a blur as he tries to understand what's happening.

"Derek?"

"Lily," he says with relief as Beau's wife stops in front of him, looking up at his face. "Did you see where Addie went? She was with Savvy." Derek peers over his shoulder again. "They were right there, before."

"She's grieving," Lily says quietly.

"Savvy is," Derek clarifies.

"They both are," Lily says. "Different things, in different ways. There are different kinds of grief ... but then you know that."

She's still looking at him, squinting a little into the sun. She's different, Lily. She's a Beaufort by marriage, not birth. An in-law, like Weiss. She may be blonde but she's diminutive – physically, anyway, a whole head shorter than Savvy and Augie. Lily must have been an adult already, the first time the island welcomed her.

"Shepherd." Beau passes by, frowning. "Don't take all day, now."

"He's coming, honey," Lily assures her husband and Beau looks slightly mollified, pausing to run an affectionate hand along his wife's blonde hair on his way past.

"Derek … you've done well," Lily says softly once Beau is occupied with the boat again. "It's not easy, coming to this island for the first time. Not for us, not for the in-laws. I've been a Beaufort by marriage for fifteen years, I carried five Beaufort babies and it's still … well. The island is a special place."

"Different," he says. On all sides he can see the rest of the family saying final goodbyes to Augusta and Russ, their small daughter passed from one relative to another for hugs and kisses. He recognizes Bos and Casey's twins clamoring at Augie's side, as she promises them they'll see Minna soon, and several of Beau and Lily's children.

Lily nods. "Different from anywhere else." She pauses. "I want to thank you, Derek," she says after a moment. "You've been kind to my sons, when they were hurt, and so patient with my daughter. You didn't have to do that. Beau was tough on you, when you got here, I know that. And I'd like to think I'll see you again, but … well, you never know. So I want to tell you that I appreciate what you've done. All of it. I know it wasn't easy, and I appreciate it. And I know Beau does too … no matter what he might say."

Derek nods, his throat feeling a little thick.

"He believes in you," Lily says quietly.

"Believes … what?" Derek is confused.

"In you," Lily repeats. "Beau believes that you – "

"Shepherd! Hurry the hell up!" Ten feet away, his foot propped on a low piling, Beau is shading his eyes from the sun. When Lily raises her eyebrows, he repeats himself in censored form but no less impatiently: "Hurry the _heck_ up, Shepherd!"

"Daddy said a bad word, Mama!" Isaac, who had been at his father's side, darts over to Lily, grinning.

" _Real_ bad," Avery adds, clapping her little hands.

"All right, that's enough out of both of you." She ruffles Isaac's blond hair, which is sticking up wildly from, Derek presumes, a dip in the island's salty waters.

" _Hell_ ," another little boy repeats happily.

"Thanks for that, brother." A tall blonde Derek hasn't seen much on the island is shaking her head, gesturing at a series of small children who must be hers and looking like she's trying not to laugh. Beau's expression is a little sheepish now, and Derek remembers that he has his own sisters, in addition to the tight foursome he understands was formed so long ago with Savvy and Augie and Boswell.

 _Bos_. Savvy's brother is nowhere to be found. Derek glances around the dock, a little more carefully now, but he can't see him.

"Boswell," he says tentatively, glancing at Lily.

"I'll be sure to send him your regards." And she stands on tiptoe to kiss Derek on the cheek. "Go on, then," she says, "before my husband's vocabulary gets any more creative."

Her eyes are soft, like she's sad too.

But he does as she says, tracing the final steps down the dock that seem to be reserved for those who are leaving. An line as invisible as so much he's learned on the island: unseen but observed with an almost religious adherence.

"About time." Beau is shading his eyes, frowning at the runabout. "Look, I don't like leavin' Lily either, trust me, but I believe you have a plane to catch."

"Sorry," he says automatically.

"I wanna drive, Uncle Beau!" Minna is bouncing on her tiptoes on the dock, immune to Beau's scowl.

"Say please, sugar," Augie reminds her, toying fondly with her daughter's blonde ponytail.

"I wanna _please_ drive," Minna corrects. She tugs on Beau's hand. " _Please_ , Uncle Beau."

"Well, I can't say no to that, can I?" Beau spreads his hands as if he has no choice.

"Is she really going to drive the boat?" Derek asks. He's only half listening; it's taking most of his focus not to look up island for Addison again. She wasn't there at his last backward glance. Or the one before it either.

 _Keep moving._

He's not sure why it matters; they already said goodbye.

"Yes," Augie says shortly, her face tight. "We let three-year-olds drive here on the island."

He wouldn't be that shocked if so, but he swallows the sarcastic comment, hoping he's misread what sounds like hostility from Savvy's cousin. He watches as Beau settles in the driver's seat with Minna on his lap and gestures for Derek to take the passenger seat. It's the one seat in this runabout he hasn't had before, actually.

Where did Addison go?

But Russ and Augie are already in the backseat together and Beau taps on the wheel impatiently, glaring at him, so there's no time to wonder.

One foot in front of the other, hands on the smooth surface of the vessel that will take him from the island once more, Derek boards carefully, figuring splashing Augie would be a mistake.

Beau revs the motor … and they head out.

It should seem more drastic, leaving the island after all this time, but somehow it's just a beautiful autumn day, the sun warm on all their shoulders, and he watches helplessly as the island gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

.-.-.

It's cooler the further out they get along the endless churn of Three Rivers, and Derek shivers a little as two gulls cry above him, one of them swooping low as if it's carrying a warning.

Just then, the motor cuts.

"Everything okay?" Derek asks, glancing at Beau.

"Oh, yeah." Beau gives him a thumbs-up without looking at him, the sun blurring the edges of his visible profile. "Just taking a little rest."

Which is confusing when Beau was so anxious to get moving, but Derek doesn't question it, assuming the answer will be another island rule he has yet to learn.

"I like it when we _don't_ go fast sometimes," Minna observes in her high-pitched little voice, and Derek is amused.

It's quiet, so quiet now.

The water moves up against the boat.

Little splashes announce the presence of fish.

He can see the shadow of the mainland ahead of them, and he _can't_ see the island behind them, so he figures they must be halfway.

Of course they're not completely still – they can't be, not on the living river that's actively rocking them in its churn.

"Time always seems so long on the island," Augie observes as they drift. "But actually, it's short."

Derek turns in his seat to acknowledge her words – she's sitting directly behind him – and sees Russ pick up his wife's hand and squeeze it.

And he remembers that Augie is going back to the mainland to begin treatment. Treatment for the disease that killed her mother and Savvy's mother in turn.

He swallows hard.

Here he's been consumed with the ache and confusion of leaving Addison, and annoyed with Augie's hostility, while greater pain is happening right next to him. Of course Augie is sarcastic, a little aggressive. Her life is on the line.

He's flooded with guilt, poised to apologize.

"Knock it off!"

He glances up at Augie's sharp words, realizing he's still half turned in his seat, mostly facing her. "Pardon?"

"I said, _knock it off._ " Augie shakes her head, her long hair swishing from side to side angrily.

"But I didn't – "

"Sure you did. You were doing the cancer face." Augie glances toward the driver's seat, where her daughter is occupied with Beau. Then she leans forward, toward Derek, and widens her already wide eyes, adopting an exaggeratedly mournful expression. Her voice is a low hiss. "Don't you try to deny it, either, Shepherd."

"I won't," he says, glancing uneasily at Russ, who holds his hands aloft as if to say, _you're on your own._

"Glad to hear it." Augie glares at him. "Because I won't have it. I know the odds might not be good but I'm not going have any of y'all holding my funeral while I'm still alive."

The words are similar to ones he heard her use before, but they're not gentle this time.

Russ touches her shoulder now. "Honey … Derek didn't actually say anything," he reminds her quietly.

"He didn't have to."

"Augie." Russ moves a little closer.

"I didn't mean to make you angry," Derek tells her apologetically, realizing he used the wrong words the moment they've escaped his lips.

"I'm not _angry_ ," Augie snaps.

Clearly.

"I'm not angry," she repeats, her voice shaking a little. She's still glaring at him. "I'm _annoyed_. I'm annoyed because I might be out of time for the people I love and you have time, Derek, you have so much _time_. You have time and you're just throwing it away. No, don't," she says when he starts to respond. "Don't even try. I don't want to hear it about _it's better this way_ and _we don't want to hurt each other_ or whatever good-guy crap you're going to spout about how it's just so _right_ that you're walking away. You are throwing away something I am trying so hard to hold onto and you're right, I'm angry. I'm so angry. You know what? I'm too angry to look at you right now."

She draws a long breath after her speech and turns to Russ. "Switch seats with me, baby, so I don't have to see him," she orders.

Russ looks confused. They're both on the back bench, but Russ is seated behind Beau and Minna, Augie behind Derek. The space difference is negligible.

"Honey," Russ says placatingly, "we're in the middle of – "

"Just switch before I throw him overboard!"

Russ sighs, and with some creative maneuvering manages to switch seats with his wife. Augie leans back in her new seat huffily and pushes her sunglasses down from the crown of her head to cover her eyes.

"I was getting along so well with the Beauforts," Derek says, trying to keep his tone light. "I guess I should have known it wouldn't last."

"You watch yourself, boy," Russ says, his tone still calm, and even friendly. Seated behind Derek, he can speak quietly without anyone else hearing. "I may not have Augie's temper but I'm not too happy with you myself."

 _What else is new?_

Derek just slumps a little into his seat, this feeling of being in a boat of hostile Beauforts uncomfortably familiar.

As Beau turns the motor and they roar off again … it seems to him all the progress on the island is washing away as swiftly as the path they cut through the river.

.-.-.

"Addie … it's going to be okay."

Savvy fills a mason jar with cold water and brings it to the side of the bed. She can't help noticing that Addison, who is frozen with grief and stared at the key to Red Fox like she had no idea how to operate it – not that anyone else here would ever lock a door, but Addie and Derek have their own ways – still settles herself only on one side of the bed, her limbs drawn in, leaving the other half bare.

There's something about that blank empty space that might as well be embroidered _Derek Should Be Here_ , and Savvy almost leaves it bare.

But Addie needs her, and this isn't a pull-up-a-chair-and-hold-hands kind of morning, so Savvy climbs onto the bed anyway.

Addie's crying and apologizing at the same time as Savvy does her best to soothe her.

 _He's gone._

That's what she keeps repeating.

 _He's really gone this time._

Savvy holds her hand tightly, wanting it not to be true. When Addison is distracted, Savvy sidles along the window as discreetly as she can, knowing she can see the edge of Thompson dock from this angle.

Just in case the boat never left.

That kernel of hope dies when she sees the empty spot at Thompson where Beau's runabout was tied.

The island can surprise her; it has before. But it stings a little, as she climbs onto the bed again to comfort her weeping friend, to know that the island could actually disappoint her.

.-.-.

"All right, I have some business on the mainland today," Beau announces when the last suitcase has been heaved out of the runabout and onto the dock. "So let's get all of y'all out of here so you can make your flights and I can get to it without wasting any more time." He shoots Derek a dark look. "The captain should be right about – ah, there he is. Captain Eaves!" he calls.

"It's Beaufort Beaufort, my favorite Beaufort." Eaves strides toward them with a wide smile, looking amused with his own joke. The tiny plane – actually smaller than Derek remembers from the first flight, if possible – is perched like a grasshopper on the little stretch of seashore that acts as a runway in Beaufort Grove.

The battered wooden sign is the same one Derek remembers from their landing here a lifetime ago:

 _welcome to beaufort grove_

"Very funny." Beau is shaking his head, clapping Eaves on the shoulder. "But hey, joke's on you, brother, 'cause you've got to transport this Yankee back to Charlotte."

He nods toward Derek.

Captain Eaves looks distinctly unimpressed. "Shepherd," he says grudgingly.

"Captain Eaves," Derek replies, trying not to notice that Augie is glaring at him.

"Don't worry, Captain, we're coming too," Augie reminds him, her tone far sweeter than in the boat. "We'll lighten the sting."

Eaves nods approvingly, kisses her cheek in greeting, and then shakes hands with Russ and stops to exclaim over Minna.

"I drove the boat!" the child pipes up happily.

"Did you, now?" Eaves shoots Beau a glance. "Does this little lady have a license?"

"She's on her way, don't you worry," Beau says. "She's a natural." He glances at the old clock mounted on the post. "Gettin' late, Eaves."

"Right." Eaves points at the little craft. "All aboard that's going aboard, then?"

Augie exchanges a glance with Beau, then turns to her husband. "Russ, honey … take the cases up, will you? I'll be there in a second."

"Sure." Russ holds out a hand. "Minna, come on with Daddy, sugar, I need your help."

Minna gives Derek a friendly wave goodbye and skips off alongside her father as Captain Eaves and Russ juggle the bags. Derek watches as they hand bags up to Captain Eaves and then Russ guides Minna carefully up the small staircase.

Then Derek has an uneasy moment when he wonders if Augie has stayed behind in the hopes she can drown him quickly instead of letting him accompany them on the small plane.

As Augie approaches him with swift footsteps, he thinks he might be right.

Instead, to his surprise, she reaches out and puts her arms around his neck. They're the same height, and after a moment he places his hands on her back to return the embrace carefully, still not a hundred percent positive she's not going for a stranglehold instead.

"It was real nice seeing you again," she says. "Thank you for being a friend to my cousin, and to Weiss. And … just … think about it, Derek, okay?" she adds quietly enough for only him to hear. "While you still have time, really _think_ about it."

When she draws back she looks at his face for one long moment, and when he returns her gaze he can see the island flickering in her pale blue eyes, so much like Savvy's. He blinks and he can see the water that connects the island to Goat's Head, he can see the gushing spring, and he can see the moment of connection when he and Addison broke the water together.

"Derek."

He startles back to reality at the interruption.

"Eaves needs to go now," Beau says, nodding toward the small craft. Captain Eaves, sure enough, is standing on the little staircase with his arms folded, looking impatient.

"Right." Derek glances from Augie to the plane and back to Beau.

Augie is looking back at him, her hand on her hip. The breeze blowing off the river lifts her blonde hair and swirls toward Derek. He feels the air against his face, with that salty-marsh scent that's become almost familiar, clean and green.

Like it's come straight from the island.

He closes his eyes for just a moment, breathing it in.

"Beau," Derek says.

"Yes sir." Beau is a little distracted waving to Minna, who has her small face pressed against the airplane's window, and doesn't turn around.

"I need your boat," Derek blurts.

Beau gives him his full attention now.

"You need my what?"

"Your boat. Give me the runabout. I mean, please give me the runabout." His voice speeds up. "I need your boat."

Augie and Beau exchange a glance.

"What do you need with my boat, Shepherd?" Beau asks, eyebrows raised.

Derek takes a deep breath. "I need to go back to the island," he says.

Augie whoops loudly with delight, then nudges her cousin with her shoulder. "You heard the man, Beau, hand over the boat!"

And he does.

Without any further protest.

Derek makes haste to the craft, swinging over the side while Beau and Augie make short work of the knots, and then suddenly realizes that by commandeering the runabout for the second time this trip, he's leaving Beau stranded without a ride back to the island.

"Beau, wait – how are you going to get back to the island?"

"I'll borrow Eaves's craft or you can send someone out for me later, it doesn't matter." Beau waves a dismissive hand. "Stop worrying and get moving!"

"Wait!"

"Now what?" Beau asks, annoyed.

Derek leans forward in his seat and Beau crouches down on the dock correspondingly. "What is it?" he asks, a little more gently.

Derek glances out at the water, then back at Beau. He's remembering the words from the hearth his first night on the island:

 _Legend used to be that you could take that same curve on Black River that most of y'all did to get out here and not even see the dock. Only if the island wanted you back. Then you'd see it. Otherwise … she wouldn't take you._

"Look, should I be worried about, uh, about going back to the island alone?" Derek asks.

"You brought Addie back from the mainland yourself, didn't you?" Beau looks puzzled. "You saw the dock then."

"Yes," he says, "but Addie's pretty much a Beaufort, and she was there too. I wasn't alone. Don't they say that no one has ever made it out to the island without a Beaufort aboard?"

"You've been listening to island rumors," Beau says.

"But they haven't," he presses. "Have they?"

"Not that I know of, but – hang on, Derek, just hang on, we don't know if any have actually tried."

Derek considers this.

"Look. You know the route. You know the way." Beau leans down a little further, his face very serious. "You take the curve at Black River and if you don't see anything at all, well, then pilot back this way 'cause you're out of luck."

Derek nods.

"But if you pass that curve and you see the dock – well, then, brother, you'll know the island is welcoming you back. Now _git_!" Beau orders loudly before Derek can let the instructions sink in and he doesn't waste any more time pulling the boat out and steering back across Three Rivers.

.-.-.

"How is she?" Weiss asks quietly, shading his eyes from the high sun.

"She's … resting," Savvy says, closing the door to Red Fox quietly behind her. It's a bit of a euphemism, but they'll have time later for the details of _cried herself to sleep._ Addison was exhausted from the emotions of the day; by the time Savvy had convinced her to finish her glass of water – and refused her request of white lightning – Addison's eyes were already half-closed.

Now, blinking into the bright light outside, Savvy sighs.

Weiss shakes his head. "Why?" he asks.

"Why what?"

"Why did he leave? And why did she let him?"

"Because they love each other," Savvy says simply. "And they both want the other one to be happy. And they're so damn hard-headed that they just – "

She stops talking, shaking her head with disappointment.

"You think they're going to be happy?" Weiss asks doubtfully.

"Of course not. Not without each other."

"Then what do we – "

"Nothing." Savvy sinks down on the swing. "We did everything we could."

Weiss sits down next to her, wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.

They sit there like that for a while, rocking just slightly. Savvy leans against her husband, breathing the clean, green-scented air, drinking in the familiar sounds and scents of the island. There's only a few days left.

Here, now ... she feels her mother close.

Her mother, who always knew the right thing to do.

Savvy can't help but think Mama could have fixed this.

"Sav." Weiss pulls her a little closer. "It's not your fault. You tried."

She just sighs, looking out toward the river.

"Addie and Derek … they were always meant to be," she says after long silent moments. "I still believe it, honey. I do." When she turns her face up to see her husband, his eyes are sad.

"I know." His arm is comforting around her.

"This is wrong, Weiss. It's not supposed to end like this."

"I know, babe, I'm disappointed too," he admits. "But we have to let it be."

They rock in silence for another few moments.

Savvy can't seem to stop revisiting the last week. The hearth, her setup in Red Fox, the outdoor shower that's practically magic in and of itself. The shell, the cast iron pan at breakfast duty, the golden sunset on Tuesday night. Addie crying in her arms with the pain of not telling Derek to stay.

She traces it over and over as she gazes down the expanse of Three Rivers in the distance. It's the same way she'd sit with her team after a trial and pick apart all their choices, trying to figure out which were the ones that led to the result and which were just … part of the web.

"Obsessing is unhealthy, you know," Weiss says, though his tone is light.

She doesn't deny what she's doing; he knows her too well.

"You're right, honey. But I can't help it. I just really thought it would be enough, if they could figure out – wait a minute, Weiss, what is that?"

"Sorry," he says, withdrawing his hand. "I just wanted to distract you."

"No, not that," she says impatiently. " _That._ "

And she points to a little dark blur bobbing on the river in the distance, just barely visible against the horizon.

Moving toward the island.

She squints, trying to make it out. The glowing little mahogany craft, that's Beau's runaround. She'd know it anywhere, and it's not like just anyone can take the curve from Black River.

But there's only one person in the boat.

The driver.

And he's not blond.

"Weiss," she whispers, grabbing his hand. "Weiss!"

"Son of a bitch." Weiss can't seem to stop a grin from spreading across his face. "He's coming back."

.-.-.

"Derek. Derek!" Savvy and Weiss greet him together at the dock, the glare of the island sun setting Savvy's blonde hair aglow.

"Welcome back," she says, as if it's the island himself greeting him and then Weiss is giving him a hand out of the runabout and doing a thoroughly decent city-kid job tying up the boat.

Then again, Weiss is a Beaufort in-law.

And so, Derek has realized, is he.

"You came back alone," Savvy says, her tone tinged with approving wonder, as Derek steadies himself on the dock.

The whole trip from the mainland was like this: a blur, his damp hair speaking to the speed at which he cut through the waters, his hands still shaking slightly from the mixture of shock and relief when he saw Thompson dock emerge around the curve at Black River.

"The island welcomed you back. I _knew_ it would," Savvy whispers, and she hugs him tightly.

Derek hugs her back, still feeling dazed.

"Savvy. _Sav_." Weiss taps her shoulder. "With all due respect, I don't think you're the one Derek came all the way back here to hug."

Savvy draws back and shakes her head, wiping tears out of her eyes, half laughing and half crying at this point. She leans against Weiss for a moment, and he gives her a squeeze.

A fresh, cold breeze picks up from the water then, cutting through the daze, and suddenly Derek's focus returns.

"Where is she?" he asks urgently.

"Back at Reeds," Savvy says. When he doesn't move, she touches his arm. "You want me to go get her, Derek?"

"No. I mean, yes, but – there's something I need to do first." He pauses. "I don't need much time, though. Five minutes."

He tells them where to direct her and they assure him they'll do it.

Gathering himself, he watches Savvy and Weiss walk up the path he knows leads toward Reeds. Weiss's arm is resting over Savvy's shoulder and hers is looped around his waist.

They're good friends, Savvy and Weiss. Close friends. Some of their best friends, and they're right about so many things, but not everything.

Because it's not about the ring. He took off his ring.

And it's not about the vows. They broke the vows, more than once.

It's about one thing, and he needs to hurry, now – so that he's ready when that one thing sees him.

.-.-.

His back is to her; he's on the beachfront directly across from Reeds, where they stood together the first night on the island.

Addison watches as he reaches down for a long stick and then he's doing … something in the sand.

Barefoot, her steps are quiet enough that he doesn't seem to notice.

Finally, she speaks his name, and he stands up, turns around and looks at her. But there's no surprise in his expression – he did hear her coming.

Every inch of him facing her is so familiar she could cry, if she had any tears left. The sea breeze is moving his dark hair and she's aching to touch him. But –

"You left," she whispers. "I watched you go."

His eyes are soft. "I did leave. But I came back."

"Beau brought you back?" She takes a step toward him.

He shakes his head. "I came back alone."

The import of that sinks in, and her eyes widen.

"But why did you come back?" she asks, hardly daring to hope. "Did you … forget something you needed?"

He looks back at the ocean for a moment. "You could say that. In fact – that's exactly what happened."

She follows his gaze down to the sand now. He's been carving with the stick she saw, she realizes, and she reads the large letters he's created in the damp sand:

 **A + D**

He glances at her. She holds out her hand wordlessly; understanding what she wants, he hands over the long stick.

For a moment, one inhale, he thinks she's going to cross out what he wrote.

She doesn't.

She outlines a heart around it.

"Shut up," she says, and he's standing close enough to see her cheeks flush, when he raises an eyebrow at her.

He raises his hands in surrender.

Addison takes a deep breath. _Don't stop moving._ Her bare feet churn the soft white grains of the beach and if ever she and her husband have needed extra sands of time … it's now.

"Derek." She looks right at him, her voice steady. "I want you to stay."

"Well, that's good," he says, "because I plan to stay."

Her heart speeds up.

He pauses, and her eyes reflect the ocean back to him. He takes a step closer and she can hardly dare to breathe.

"Addison?"

"Yes?" she responds, her voice trembling a little.

"I wanted to stay," he says.

Her eyes are bright. "You did?"

"I did. I just … I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you anymore."

She brushes at her cheeks where moisture has gathered. "I didn't want to hurt you anymore, either," she says. "I was afraid to tell you that I … never actually wanted you to leave," she admits.

"I was afraid to tell you that I never actually _wanted_ to leave." He stops. "We're, uh, we're getting circular."

Addison gestures at the expanse of land around them, as if to say, _so's the island._

He just smiles at her for a moment and she smiles back. Gently, he reaches to brush away a stray tear on her cheek.

His fingers on her flesh send a course of heat through his hand, his arm, his whole body.

He's flooded with memories, those that have happened and those that haven't happened yet. Their marriage before, and the new one they can maybe create, together.

A future.

Their future.

"Addie."

She nods.

"You asked before, when I was packing … you asked what happens next."

She looks down at her hands, and he waits for her to look up at him. Her eyes are blue and green at the same time, past and future all at once.

"Us," he says simply. "You and me. We happen next."

There's hope in her eyes now ... but fear too. "I don't want to hurt you anymore," she whispers.

"I don't want to hurt you either." He reaches for her hand, his thumb brushing over the cool metal of her rings.

"You were broken, Derek," she says softly. "What I did. I broke you."

"I was broken," he agrees. "And you were, too. _We_ were broken. But our pieces, Addie ... they fit together."

His throat is thick watching her, waiting.

She closes her eyes, a few tears splashing out when she does so. He traces them on her cheeks, gently, with his thumbs.

When she opens her eyes, they're clear as they gaze directly at him.

"You're back," she says.

"I'm back."

"I'm … glad you're back." One of her hands rises to touch his cheek, the feel of her palm achingly familiar.

He sees the color of her eyes change in a way he's certain no one else would be able to discern, her cheeks very pink in this light.

"Derek … "

"Yeah." He brushes a lock of breeze-tossed hair from her face.

"Um, we should, um, we _could_ … talk more."

"We could," he agrees.

"But … we have time to talk more. Later." She looks at him. "Right?"

"Right," he says. "We have time."

"Because I was thinking we could go somewhere a little more private," she suggests.

"Private?" He follows her gaze, confused, and for the first time sees a line of Beauforts two and three deep on the dock, watching them.

The cousin he's fairly sure is Cammie, even from this distance, has both fists held high in a victory cheer; he sees a large group of blond children clapping with delight, and though the sun is obscuring his features he's fairly sure he sees Bos toward the back of the crowd, tall enough to see, one hand raised in a salute.

Derek gets the feeling the Beauforts will be setting off some fireworks tonight.

"Oh … I see your point," he says. "Maybe we should go inside."

Addison looks from her husband to the sand, where their carved initials are still clear. "But, um, do you want to wait for the waves to come in first? To wash it away?"

"Yeah," he admits. "Actually, I do."

"You always did." She pauses. "Derek – what you said before about why you did it - was it really because you wanted to see them erased?"

"No." He looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering the words he hurled at her, aimed to hurt, when she brought up their anniversary tradition of carving their initials into the sand at their beachfront house. "Really, it was because … I liked watching our initials go back into the ocean. Watching _us_ go back into the ocean. It's … like the ocean was hanging onto us for … safekeeping."

"Oh, Derek." She looks at him for a second, her eyes soft. "That is … truly bizarre."

"This is why I don't tell you these things." He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's not bizarre. It's actually kind of sweet. Maybe not sweet, because it's still weird …"

Her voice trails off. "Derek? What are you doing?"

His hands are curled at her hips, drawing her closer; she can feel each individual finger through the thin material of her lightweight sundress.

"Just giving you something else to do with your mouth other than babble."

She glares at him. "That's a little offensive, you know. More than a little, actually. I don't _babble_ , and even if I did, I think you should just-"

Whatever she thinks he should just do is lost when he takes a chance and presses his lips to hers. For a minute she freezes and then her lips relax against his, her arms coming up around his neck. It's night and day from the brief kiss they exchanged before he left, their contact electric and leaving him wanting him more

Wanting everything.

"What do you think I should _just do_ , Addie?" he teases her when he draws back, noting her flushed cheeks, her heavy-lidded eyes and uneven breathing. "And keep in mind … we don't actually have privacy yet."

A slow smile quirks her rosy lips. Ignoring the line of Beauforts on the dock, some of whom are now audibly cheering and even jumping up and down, she looks only at her husband.

"I think you should _just_ shut up and kiss me again," she says.

So he does.

Then she kisses him.

And they're still kissing when the last etching in the island sand of their joined initials washes back into the ocean for safekeeping.

* * *

.-.-.  
 _the end_

* * *

 ** _Thank you so much for reading! I have loved this journey to the island with you. I hope you liked the end. It felt right to me that Derek would leave ... in a completely different way from the first terrible time ... and that this time, he would choose to come back. And once he came back, Addison would be ready to tell him she wanted him to stay._**

 ** _But WAIT! The story is not quite done yet! There's still one more chapter coming, an epilogue, and I have a feeling you might like it. Either way, this has been a massive but really fun undertaking and I have appreciated every single comment I've received. I hope you'll review and let me know what you thought of how this trip to the island ended._**


	24. EPILOGUE: it is well with my soul

**A/N: Thank you so much** for your really lovely response to the last chapter of this story and to the story as a whole. I have loved writing it and reading all of your reviews and messages. Here is the epilogue, with more author's notes at the end (which shouldn't surprise you). For background music, I highly suggest the hymn that inspired the title. I like the BYU choir's a cappella version. I hope you enjoy this epilogue.

* * *

 **.-.-.**

 _ **Some Bright Morning**  
_ _24\. EPILOGUE: it is well (it is well) with my soul_

 **.-.-.**

* * *

"I see it, Mama! I see the plane!" The little girl bounces on her toes with enough enthusiasm to make her shiny dark pigtails bounce.

"That's just a gull, silly." Her older sister shakes her head. They've both tipped their dark heads back, hands shading their eyes to search the sky – clear azure with just a few wispy clouds.

"Stay away from the edge, girls." Savvy reaches for her younger daughter's hand, drawing her back on the old wooden planks. "You know you need to be careful on the dock."

"We know, Mama," Catherine says patiently, having assumed full responsibility as older sister the moment they brought Cora home to the larger apartment the family calls home now. "But when are they gonna get here?"

"Soon. You'll see them as soon as we do, honey."

"But when?" Cora demands, echoing her big sister. With her hands on her hips and little pink sunglasses atop her head, despite what science might say, she resembles her mother enough to take Weiss's breath away.

"Try to be patient, sweetheart." Weiss tugs lightly on one of her pigtails. "They'll be here – "

" – in the island's time," Catherine finishes, dark eyes crinkling up with the satisfaction of a correct answer. The sun shining off her hair makes it warm when Savvy strokes the length of her ponytail.

"That's right." Savvy smiles down at her older daughter. Thoughtful and focused, Catherine sometimes calls to mind with eerie precision the young Weiss Savvy first met, who would get so lost in a book he wouldn't even hear her approaching. "Or at least Captain Eaves's time," Savvy amends.

"… which is about as reliable as Beaufort time," Weiss murmurs next to her, and Savvy reaches out to swat him. He pulls her in for a kiss instead, and she doesn't object.

"Is _that_ the plane?" Cora tugs on her father's hand, pointing upwards at a streak of wispy white cloud. "Daddy, is that it?"

"Nope." At her expression of disappointment he gives her hand a squeeze. "Keep watching, babe. They'll be here."

.-.-.

Addison walks through the airport in silence as families corral and comfort children and couples kiss hello and goodbye, toward the familiar row of rocking chairs in the Charlotte airport.

The chairs are memorable from all the times she's flown through the busy hub; there's something charming about them, even if they're faux-homey, even if airports are mostly dehumanizing and distressing. This journey, though.

This journey is different.

Stamped in her memory is the last time she walked this path alone, and all the very different times that followed.

Like that first time, now, she recognizes the back of his head with its looping dark curls first. But even though Derek has teased her for years that he can always hear her from at least two hallways away because of the distinctive clicking of her heels, he doesn't turn around.

Not even as she clicks her way right next to him.

Her heart still speeds up to be this close to him … even if their separation can be counted in minutes.

She opens her mouth to say his name as she approaches, to try to get his attention, but then closes it again. She'd rather let another minute go by unobserved, watching the two of them.

With their heads close together, his curls dark brown and hers light, they look like parts of the same whole. Like pieces of her heart. Seconds pass, or maybe hours, in silent warmth, sun glowing through the big windows as the rocking chair moves back and forth, back and forth.

She's not sure who notices her first, because they turn as one.

"Mommy!" her daughter cries with delight.

Addison leans down to kiss her rosy cheek, carefully cupping her hand around the bundle strapped to her chest; Derek's hand has risen at the same time, automatically it seems, to support them both.

"I can multitask," she reminds him, smiling at his expression, as she holds out the undisturbed cardboard tray with its three plastic cups. Derek detaches his iced coffee and the little cup of milk for their daughter, giving her a sip first. Then he steadies the rocker next to him, holding it still so Addison can sit down.

Their daughter beams at her, then turns back to Derek.

"Tell me now, Daddy." She tugs on his sleeve. "You said you'd tell me when Mommy was back."

"Tell her what?" Addison glances over.

"Daddy said I wasn't born on the island," the little girl explains carefully, "but Uncle Weiss said I was."

"He did?"

"Uh-huh." She nods, curls bouncing. "I heard him," she adds, ducking her head a little to suggest, _maybe when I wasn't supposed to._

Addison exchanges a glance with Derek, then turns back to their daughter. "You weren't born on the island, sweetheart. You were born in the hospital, and then we took you home."

"Oh." She looks up at her mother, her sweet face a little puzzled. "But then why – "

"Addie," Derek intercedes. "Look at the time. We should get to the gate. I don't think Eaves will want to wait, not when we're already behind schedule."

.-.-.

"They're late!" Catherine announces decisively, her little arms folded over the smocked chest of her brightly-colored sundress.

"They're not late, sweetheart." Savvy toys with her daughter's silky black ponytail. "They'll get here when they get here." The breeze curls around them now, lifting Savvy's long hair; Weiss has to brush it aside to lean in and whisper.

" _That_ is circular," Weiss murmurs, for his wife only.

She reaches up to pat his cheek, holding his face close to hers for a moment.

"Well. So's the island, honey."

.-.-.

"Is _that_ the plane, Daddy?"

"That one?" Derek lifts his daughter up so she can get a better view. "I don't know, sweetie, it looks pretty big."

"Yeah." She giggles, resting her head against his. "It's too big."

Addison smiles at both of them, cupping a protective hand around the sleeping baby on her chest. To think Derek once considered Captain Eaves's well-used turbo-prop to be tiny.

"That's it! That's it!"

Derek is about to remind his daughter, gently, that her shout might disturb other passengers, but he can only see smiles on the few people in earshot at the little girl's genuine excitement.

"It sure is." He kisses the side of her head, gathers their luggage, and they make their way down onto the tarmac as the little plane settles and the propellers wind down.

Outside, it's windy **,** even though the propellers are off. Addison puts up a hand to keep her hair from blowing in her face, her other hand shielding their sleeping son while Derek manages both their luggage and their daughter.

With a familiar _clunk_ , a rectangle opens up on the side of the plane, a narrow metal staircase descending to the ground. Charlotte wriggles in Derek's arms, trying to get down, and he sets her on the tarmac, keeping a firm hold on her hand.

A familiar silver-haired face appears.

"Well, hey there, Miss Addison!" Their pilot descends the stairs, smiling broadly. "Look at you. Traveling a little heavier these days, huh?"

"Just a little." Addison smiles at him. "Good to see you, Captain Eaves."

He shakes Derek's hand warmly, then leans down to greet the little girl bouncing on her tiptoes with excitement.

"Charlotte Shepherd, look at you, you've gotten so big."

"I'm _four_." She beams at him and holds up four fingers.

Eaves looks suitably impressed, then turns back to Addison.

"And wait a minute, who's this handsome fellow I haven't met yet?"

"This is James." Addison strokes the baby's cheek, impossibly soft under the back of one finger. "It's his first trip to the island."

"Ah. It is." Captain Eaves nods. "Well, I'll try to go gentle on the landing, then."

Derek raises his eyebrows.

"Can I sit in the cockpit, Captain?" Charlotte is bouncing on her toes again. "Can I?"

"Hang on a minute, sweetie." Derek re-captures her hand as she practically vibrates with eagerness. "Let's board first."

"Y'all are my only passengers on the flight this morning," Eaves assures them as he guides them toward the narrow metal staircase descending from the small plane.

"We were hoping." Derek scoops Charlotte up with one arm and hefts their luggage with the other; Addison walks with a sleeping James strapped securely to her chest.

"I can take my bag, Derek," she reminds him.

"Oh, I know you can. _I_ can also take your bag," he counters.

"Yes, I noticed." She pauses, lifting a hand to his face. "I'm not an invalid, you know."

"I know that too. But you're already carrying a lot." He pauses to stroke his sleeping son's cheek, lest he be offended at being referred to as _a lot._

Addison relents and climbs the ladder ahead of him; he stays protectively at the bottom until she's boarded, then climbs up with Charlotte and their bags in tow.

Charlotte resumes her unanswered request as soon as Derek sets her down.

" _Please_ can I sit in the – "

"Hold on, sweetie, try to be patient," Derek encourages, directing her into a seat while he unloads all their luggage and helps Addison settle their sleeping son into the carseat already waiting for them.

The fourteen-seater is snug with the four Shepherds taking up the full row, the smiling blonde flight attendant checking on the seat belt securing James's carseat after enthusiastically greeting each member of the family.

Charlotte is sitting patiently in her window seat, little feet swinging above the ground, inclining her head frequently toward the open cockpit, where the back of Eaves's silvery-grey head is visible while his hands do something Derek is certain of with the controls.

Then he turns around.

"Where's my first officer?" Captain Eaves calls.

"Go ahead, Char." Derek lifts her down from her seat with a kiss and she covers the narrow aisle happily. Once she reaches the cockpit, she climbs confidently into the second narrow seat. They can't hear what Eaves says to her, but her giggles carry through the small cabin.

Addison leans across what passes for an aisle, smiling. "Good thing she never tries this on real planes," she notes, shaking her head.

"Don't let Eaves hear you call this _not_ a real plane," Derek warns, returning her smile.

Charlotte is leaning forward now, pointing to something on the dashboard. Her curls bounce when she nods vigorously at something Captain Eaves says to her. Addison just watches her for a moment, one of her hands resting on the baby's carseat. Her daughter's curls are darkening now, a soft golden brown. The fine hair on her head was pale at birth, brightening through her toddlerhood into a glowing blonde – as if the island itself sprinkled color on it.

"Mommy, look!" Charlotte calls from the cockpit, turning around with a big smile that makes her look heart-meltingly like her father.

"I see you, sweetheart." Addison gives her daughter a little wave.

She'll never tire of seeing her.

.-.-.

"I still don't see the plane," Catherine says glumly. "I looked and looked, Mama."

"It's coming, honey." Savvy strokes the top of her head. "Remember, Captain Eaves has to fly all the way from Charlotte – and before he can even leave, he has to wait his turn to take off."

"I don't like waiting my turn," Cora interjects cheerfully now – and accurately, making her parents smile.

Their younger daughter's expression turns thoughtful. "Mama." She pulls at her mother's shirt. "Charlotte, and Aunt Addie, and Uncle Derek – "

"and baby James," Catherine adds.

" – and baby James," Cora concedes. "They're all Shepherds. Right?"

"That's right, honey."

"But they're Beauforts too?" Cora is glancing at the old wooden sign:

 _welcome to beaufort grove_

Savvy smiles down at her daughter. "You and your sister have a different last name, don't you, and so do I. Your Granddaddy is a Sevier by birth but he's a Beaufort now. Lots of Beauforts are called something else these days. Most of them, in fact."

Cora nods, looking satisfied, and then turns to her father. "Pick me up," she instructs, grabbing his hand. "I wanna see the plane first."

"No, me!" Catherine reaches for Weiss's other hand.

"Oh, you're in demand, honey." Savvy leans in to kiss his cheek and Weiss, grinning at his wife, squats to pick up one of their daughters in each of his arms.

"I'm used to it," he says, with a well-practiced long-suffering air, and then leans in for another kiss.

"The _plane!"_ Cora shrieks moments later; Weiss is pretty certain he's going to be deaf in his left ear, but it's worth it to witness his daughters' excitement.

Catherine, the more cautious of the two, ducks a little against him while the plane glides in from overhead, briefly hiding her small face in his neck as the strong breeze hits. Cora, on the other hand, tips her head back and claps with delight.

"They're here!"

Weiss holds onto both girls until the plane is parked and Eaves has opened the little cockpit door with a jaunty wave.

Then he sets them down. " _Walk_ , don't run, and be careful of the baby – girls, listen – "

But they're both already halfway to the plane.

By the time Savvy and Weiss catch up, Derek has already descended the little staircase with their daughter and their bags, set the bags on the ground and turned Charlotte over to her godparents, and then returned to the foot of the ladder, his hand extended to escort Addison and the baby.

The three little girls are celebrating their reunion with much delighted chatter.

"Sav." Addison leans in, one hand cupped around the infant strapped to her chest, and kisses her friend on the cheek. "Not that I don't love how much they love each other, but – weren't we all at Natural History together just last week?"

Together, they watch their excited daughters exclaiming over each other as if it's been years.

Savvy wraps an arm around Addie's shoulder. "Well … it's different out here," she says.

"True."

" _And_ it's James's first time." Savvy leans in now to admire the tiny boy. "Oh, he's more beautiful every time I see him, Addie."

Catherine skips over. "Can I see the baby too, Aunt Addie?"

"Of course." Addison strokes the top of her head, smiling down at her. Carefully, she crouches down so that Catherine can look into the carrier.

"Ooh. He's _so_ little." Catherine tilts her head up when Addison stands back up again. "What's his Hebrew name?" she asks with interest.

Weiss, who looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh, winks at Addison.

"He doesn't have one, sweetheart, he's not Jewish," Savvy says to her daughter, giving Weiss a mock glare. "He's just James."

"My Hebrew name is Chaya," Catherine says happily. "It means 'life.' Mama says _her_ mama would have liked it."

"She sure would have, honey." Savvy smooths her daughter's silky black hair.

Catherine points one small hand toward the bundle on Addison's chest. "Is he really just James, Aunt Addie?"

"Well, James Archer Shepherd," Addison says, and then it's her turn to glare at Derek.

"Don't say it," she warns.

"I didn't say anything!" He lifts his hands in mock surrender.

"You were about to say it. You were about to say …" she leans forward to hiss in his ear "… _Jazz."_

"What's wrong with Jazz?"

"As a genre? Nothing. As a nickname for our son? I don't know, honey, where should I begin?"

"Jazz," Charlotte repeats happily. "Jazzy's my baby brother," she adds.

"See, she likes it," Derek smirks.

"She's four," Addison reminds him. "She likes a lot of things we don't, do you want to make a list?"

Before he can answer, Cora calls their daughter's name with urgency. "Charlotte!" she cries again. "C'mere, hurry! I see the boat!"

Catherine and Charlotte run over together.

"Careful on the dock – " Savvy calls, as Weiss and Derek track the three small figures.

The two women watch their husbands corral their daughters.

"Mm, wearing James means Derek does most of the running – and I can't really complain." Addison smiles.

"You gave birth to him; you deserve a break," Savvy assures her.

They watch the three little girls standing on the weathered old dock that juts into the riverbank. As always, the strip of pavement that serves as the runway in Beaufort Grove dips directly into the coast of Three Rivers. It's as if you could walk right in, or land the plane right on the water.

Or wait on the same old dock that's stood there seemingly forever for a boat from the island to come fetch you.

Much excitement can be observed in the three small girls, sunlight dappling their bright heads as they point and exclaim over the white shape of a boat that's started to emerge across the expanse of Three Rivers. Catherine, with her silky black hair in a long ponytail, Cora, with her two pigtails, and Charlotte, whose curls are lighter in the southern sun. Catherine has slung a friendly arm over Charlotte's shoulders; Charlotte is holding one of Cora's hands.

"They're so cute together," Addison murmurs.

"Watch out, that's how we all start," Savvy advises. "One minute they're cute kids playing on the dock and next they're commanding getaway cars for multiple felonies."

"It was one felony and a _few_ lesser included charges," Addison says, "and they were dropped. Whose side are you on, Sav?" she asks teasingly.

"Yours, Addie. Always yours." She fumbles for her hand and squeezes as they watch the water.

.-.-.

"Beau!" Savvy calls as the large white boat makes its gentle bobbing way the last feet to the dock.

"My favorite cousin. And cousin-in-law, who's going to help me tie up the boat," Beau says, reaching a hand toward Weiss. He kneels down on the dock with some good-natured grumbling, and Beau vaults his way out so the two men can make short work of the knots.

"It's good to see you, Beau," Addison says once he's standing up again.

"Not as good as it is to see you. The Shepherds and their little lambs, what a sight for sore eyes." Beau embraces her carefully, leaving space for the infant strapped to her chest. "Hello there, little man."

"Uncle Beau!"

He scoops Charlotte up and tosses her into the air, making her squeal with delight. "Miss Charlotte, look at you. Seems like just yesterday my little girl was your size." He sets her down with a rueful smile. "Now I can barely lift her at all."

"Me too!" Cora cries and while Derek and Weiss sort out the bags, Beau lets each of the girls take a turn.

"All right, let's leave a little muscle for the fireworks," Beau says, dropping a kiss on the top of Catherine's shining head before he sets her on the dock. "Who's ready to set out?"

"Me!" Cora holds up her arms and Beau, shaking his head and smiling, scoops her up, then holds out a hand for Catherine.

Charlotte, meanwhile, has run back to her parents. "Look at the _big_ boat!"

Derek takes her hand. "Let's get your life jacket on, sweetie."

He wraps his free arm around Addison's shoulders as they walk toward the boat.

"You've upgraded again," Derek notes. Rather than the shining little mahogany runabout Derek came to know well on his first trip to the island, Beau's piloting a large white boat, a thirty-foot bowrider with thick sides to keep the rough seas at bay and plenty of seating for all of them.

"Upgraded?" Beau, who has been rooting in the carry chest of the large boat, turns around and raises his eyebrows. "This minivan isn't exactly an upgrade over the Miss Addie."

Addison blushes. "You're still calling her that …."

"Boats name themselves, Addie, it's not my fault." Beau smiles at her, then tosses one child-sized life jacket toward Derek and two to Weiss. "My Avery really pushed for the Mister Derek, too," he recalls thoughtfully.

Derek shakes his head, amused. "She's a nice craft, Beau, and I don't think she'd like to be called a minivan."

"You're probably right." Beau points a finger in his direction. "And you know I don't say that lightly."

"I know." Kneeling in front of his daughter, Derek tightens the straps on the small orange lifejacket that smells salty and marshy, a bit like the island itself. Charlotte beams at him and he taps her little nose fondly – a round button he recalls from childhood pictures of his wife – where new freckles are already starting to emerge.

The new boat is roomy and comfortable – Beau finishes loading their luggage and keeps her still with one foot, helping all of them board. Derek waits for Weiss to climb in first, then Savvy, and they hand all three girls down in their faintly damp lifejackets, hair blowing in the warm breeze.

"Careful," Derek says quietly as he guides Addison over the side, both his hands on her while she cradles the baby against her chest.

Once she's settled he vaults in after her and the families take up comfortable seats on the padded white benches, facing each other.

Beau climbs into the driver's seat, mirrored sunglasses blocking his eyes but not his broad smile.

"It's perfect, Beau. So comfortable." Savvy is turned around to look at her cousin, one of her arms around Catherine, who is cuddled against her. On her other side, Weiss is holding Cora on his lap.

"Thank you, honey. Only the best for my favorite crew of Yankees." Beau grins at her. "Tell you what. All y'all keep having more babies, and I'll keep buying bigger boats." He turns the ignition, then pauses. "Someone's gonna have to break this plan to Lily, though, she might not be too pleased – especially with Junior headed off to college this year."

.-.-.

Two families on the wide passenger benches of the big white boat.

Four parents.

Three little girls, and one very small boy. Their bonus baby.

Addison was reticent to share the news at first, almost seeming guilty about the miracles of medicine and science that came together to produce their baby boy. Medicine and science that have done so much for Savvy – saved her life, maybe; saved her cousin's life, certainly – but at the cost they knew it would take.

Savvy wouldn't have it, though, sitting Addison down not halfway through her pregnancy in their favorite cafe and telling her in a tone that brooked no argument that the only thing that would upset her is if Addie didn't send her every single ultrasound of her new nephew.

Now James is the lone boy of the four children. For now, anyway, but at least his father can relate – and they're done, these growing families.

Except that Weiss, who insisted for years that he wanted nothing more than his two perfect daughters, has started lately to relent on a third.

So maybe you never know, when a family is done growing.

.-.-.

Beau pilots the craft slowly, almost reverently across Three Rivers under the hanging yellow globe of a sun. The passage is smooth and rocking with the sounds of water slapping the sides of the boat and gulls crying overhead. Cool droplets of salty water that splash intermittently on sun-warmed skin.

This slowly, it's easy to talk.

"Uncle Beau!" Catherine is turned in her seat now. "Is Avery on the island?"

"She sure is, honey." He smiles at the little girl. Catherine was toddling after Avery when she was still the only one who could walk, Avery sweetly patient with her from her first days. "She was itching to come with," Beau says, "but you know she's glued at the hip to Minna since Augie and Russ brought her over this morning, and Bos's twins are already here, and I couldn't fit all y'all in the boat. Avery's tickled to have these three gals come join the crew. This generation of Beauforts is doing pretty well on the girls' side."

"Morgan just had twin boys, though, I heard," Addison says.

 _Heard_ is typically modest; at Savvy's request, Addison consulted frequently on the surprise multiple pregnancy even while she was pregnant herself.

"True. Well, my baby sisterdid always like to rebel." Beau glances back at Addison with a smile. "And you've got your new little fella."

"Daddy." Charlotte pulls at Derek's lightweight shirt and he looks down at her, smoothing some of her rumpled curls. "Now will you tell me? How come Uncle Weiss said I was born on the island?"

"Yes, thank you for that, Uncle Weiss," Derek says, raising a pointed eyebrow at his friend. The tips of his ears flush.

"Sorry," he mouths to Derek.

Beau glances back at them, looking amused, apparently having heard everything. The motor cuts away, silence descending.

"What's wrong?" Savvy asks, looking at her cousin.

"Nothing's wrong," he assures her. "Just seemed like we might need quiet for this one."

Derek opens his mouth to object, but he can't exactly argue with him.

Meanwhile, Charlotte's blue eyes are curious, squinted a little against the sun.

Derek isn't quite sure where to begin.

"Maybe Uncle Weiss meant you were born _because_ of the island," Beau suggests casually from the driver's seat.

Derek sees Addison's cheeks turning pink now, but he accepts the starting point.

"Was I born 'cause of the island, Daddy?" Charlotte gazes up at him, playing with the straps of his life jacket.

"Yeah, Char, you were." Derek lifts her onto his lap; cuddling is a little more difficult with two life jackets but they manage. He rests his other arm along the back of the seat, his fingers brushing Addison's shoulder. She smiles at both of them.

Beau glances at Savvy and Weiss, sitting between their two daughters, clearly sensing this conversation might need privacy. "Hey, girls." He leans over the driver's seat, lowering his voice a little as he addresses Catherine and Cora. "One of you want to come up here and help me re-charter the course to the island?"

"I do!"

"No, me!"

Savvy and Weiss exchange an amused glance.

 _Played like someone with five kids._

Beau helps both girls over the barrier to the controls and settles them next to him. They're talking animatedly about the course, and Savvy and Weiss both turn in their seats to watch, giving Derek, Addison, and Charlotte privacy.

Addison turns in her seat too, one hand cradling the baby against her chest. Her free hand finds Derek's and they squeeze, gently, at the same time, as if to say: _here goes._

.-.-.

"Daddy?" Charlotte is gazing up at him, still waiting for her answer. "I was born _because_ of the island?"

Slowly, he nods.

Charlotte turns to her mother. "I was?"

Addison nods too.

Charlotte considers this. "How come?" she asks finally.

"Well." Derek looks at Addison. "Before you were born, Mommy and I … well, we weren't being kind."

"Really?" Charlotte looks suitably appalled, as can only a preschooler whose parents, extended family, and teachers have driven home the importance of being kind.

"Really," Derek confirms.

"But you're _supposed_ to be kind."

"That's true." Addison strokes her daughter's cheek, warm from the sun. "But back then … well, we were feeling kind of sad."

"How come?" Charlotte asks.

"Well … a few reasons. But then something _really_ sad happened. Aunt Savvy's mom-"

"Great Auntie Kate."

"That's right, Great Auntie Kate. She died. And everyone came out to the island to say goodbye."

"Oh." Charlotte considers this. "And you and Daddy came to the island."

"Right."

"Me too?" Charlotte asks, turning to Derek now.

"No, sweetie, you weren't born yet. It was just Mommy and me."

"You were sad? You and Mommy?"

"Yes. We were sad … and mad," Derek says.

"You were mad?" Charlotte cranes her neck toward her mother. "At Mommy?"

"Well … yeah." Derek holds her a little tighter at the concerned expression on her face. "Mommy and I were a little mad at each other, Char, but it's okay. Because when we were on the island, well, we started remembering what was really important and we stopped being mad and we made up."

Charlotte's eyes widen. "You said sorry, Daddy?"

"He did," Addison confirms. "We both did. And then Daddy left," she adds.

"I didn't leave," Derek frowns. "I came back."

"You can't come back without leaving," Addison points out.

"You can't – never mind," Derek says with dignity, turning back to Charlotte. "The point is, I came back. And I stayed. I stayed, and Mommy stayed, and then when we left the island … we left together."

"Did you go home?" Charlotte asks.

"Well … we had two different homes then, Char," Derek says carefully. "Mommy was living in New York."

"And Daddy was living in the middle of nowhere," Addison supplies.

Derek lets that one go. "So when we left the island, Captain Eaves flew us to Charlotte."

"Where the rocking chairs are," Charlotte says, smiling at the mention of the city with which she shares a name.

"Exactly."

"And _then_ you went home?" she asks.

"Well, we weren't quite ready to go home yet, so we … decided to stay for a while."

"In the airport?"

Derek laughs, kissing the top of her sea-scented head. "No, in the city. In Charlotte. You know the picture at home, over the fireplace? With the stone bridge, and the red leaves?"

Charlotte nods.

"That's from then. Turns out it's … pretty great there."

"Good restaurants," Addison adds.

"Nice architecture."

"Friendly people."

"And the hotels …" Derek's voice trails off.

" _Excellent_ hotels," Addison supplies.

Then they both pause.

"We stayed for two weeks," Derek tells Charlotte, who is gazing up at him, lost in the rhythm of the story. "We didn't work, no one interrupted us, and we just … remembered how to be kind."

"You were kind again!" Charlotte seems pleased with this turn of events, and both parents nod in agreement. She pauses. "You _stopped_ being mad," she confirms, looking up at her father.

"That's right," he says.

"And then I was born? In Charlotte?" Now she looks to her mother.

"No … you were born in Manhattan, sweetheart," Addison says.

"About nine months later," Derek adds.

"Thirty-nine weeks," Addison corrects.

"Same thing."

"Not really."

"The point is," Derek clears his throat a little, "you may not have been born on the island, sweetie, but it's still a very special part of how you came to be."

Charlotte considers this. "I was born because of the island," she repeats.

Both parents nod.

"What about baby James?"

"Well." Derek holds his daughter a little closer. "This is baby James's first trip to the island. So everything will be new for him."

"Yeah." Charlotte seems pleased by this. "Will it be new for us, too?" she asks.

Derek finds himself exchanging a glance with Beau, who has apparently been at least half-listening. He doesn't mind; it's not like Savvy's cousin doesn't know the story. Wasn't, at least in some sense, part of it himself.

"Well … I think some people might say everything on the island is always new, no matter how many times you've been there," Derek says.

Beau doesn't turn around again, but there's something in the set of his shoulders that tells Derek he agrees.

And maybe – he's even a little impressed.

"Don't get a swelled head, Shepherd," Beau calls from the driver's seat.

Okay … maybe not impressed.

Charlotte is smiling up at him. "Your head isn't swelled, Daddy," she assures him sweetly.

"Oh, love is blind," Addison murmurs in his ear and he tries hard to glare at her but the pretense is too difficult when his daughter is sitting on his lap, with her damp lifejacket and bright eyes and eager expression, and his wife is next to him with their sleeping son cradled against her.

"No, it's not," that's all Derek says, raising an eyebrow at her, "because I can see everything."

She leans her head against his shoulder without speaking as Beau starts up the engine again.

.-.-.

The remainder of the journey to the island is at is always has been: long and short all at once, the end of one thing and the beginning of another.

They cross Three Rivers into that other world, waiting, waiting until the curve at Black River, and then –

"I see it, Mommy!" Charlotte strains on her father's lap, pointing.

"The dock!" Catherine cries. "Look, Mama!"

Savvy is grinning when Addison looks at her; her gaze taken up by her two daughters.

"We're here!" Charlotte turns to her mother with a big smile. "Right?"

"Right."

They come to a stop at the same old wooden dock Derek remembers from his first trip to the island. Beau holds the boat steady, summoning Derek to help him tie it up, and the men take turns helping the others out onto the dock. With a promise to see them all soon, Beau heads up the dock, over the worn path, through the reeds, maybe toward the shell beach.

When Derek turns back, Catherine, Cora, and Charlotte are standing on the dock deep in thought as the river slaps gently against the worn wooden planks. Low hanging foliage, rich and green, calls to mind his first trip to the island.

"We're gonna look for starfish," Catherine explains, spokeswoman for the three girls. "On the beach."

"Good idea." Savvy smiles down at them, exchanging a warm look with Addison.

"And then we're gonna make wishes," Charlotte supplies, "if we find one."

"Starfish wishes come true," Catherine says. "Give to get."

"We're _gonna_ find a starfish," Cora adds, with her trademark confidence. She smiles up at her mother. "Right?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." Savvy strokes her cheek. "Only the island knows."

"'Cause the island's magic," Catherine says. Cora nods solemnly, the breeze lifting her shiny dark hair.

Charlotte looks from her friends to her parents.

"Mama." Cora tugs at Savvy's hand, then whispers something in her ear.

Savvy nods, then turns to Addison and Derek. "We're going to run up to the cottage – we'll see you at the hearth, after?"

"Of course."

Charlotte looks up at her parents. "Do starfish wishes really come true?"

Addison and Derek exchange a glance.

"It depends on the wish," Addison says after a moment.

Charlotte isn't satisfied. "But magic isn't _really_ real. Is it?"

Derek's eyes are very soft when Addison looks at him, when he reaches out a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She smiles at him as his thumb lingers on her cheek; for a moment, five years disappear.

"It's different on the island," Derek tells their daughter, the spell broken, back in the present.

Charlotte takes this in.

Their small daughter stands in a ray of sunlight on the old wooden dock, her little red sneakers planted on the worn planks, the breeze off Three Rivers moving her golden-brown curls. There's a soft sound just then – James, waking up, blinking sleepy blue eyes in the fragrant island air as Addison strokes his back through the carrier.

A gull cries overhead and something scurries in the reeds swaying at the edges of the dock.

Is the island inhabited, Derek asked long ago? _It's complicated_.

Maybe it's not.

Maybe it's magic.

"Magic," Charlotte repeats, a little doubtfully, even though he didn't say it out loud.

Addison is smiling at their daughter, then turns her head to share the smile with her husband. It lights her eyes – no, her whole face.

"I don't know, Char," Derek says. "Mommy and I, we can't really answer your question. The thing is, you have to decide for yourself."

"I do?"

Both parents nod. "And the only way you can do that … is on the island. So, you ready to go?"

Charlotte nods decisively. "I'm ready," she says.

Derek lifts his daughter into his arms, wrapping his free arm around his wife as she cradles their cooing infant son.

And the little family of four walks together across the old wooden dock as the island welcomes all of them back.

* * *

.-.-.

 _the end_

.-.-.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! It's a departure for me to outline and write a story that, fine, is long by normal standards but is pretty darn tight for me. I loved exploring Savvy's extended family and making an Addek backstory that was a little different from my standard sad-baby-past (not that I don't love that). As I'm sure you picked up, the epilogue takes place five years after the last chapter. I loved the idea of Addison and Derek extending the magic of the island by spending some time alone after they left. And if they were still together after the two week ban ended, well ... I guess you can figure out what happened.**

 **Once more with feeling, THANK YOU! You are the best audience. You have been so generous in your feedback with this story, and here I am asking again: what did you think of the epilogue? I love reading your thoughts, and you are the reason this story exists, so I hope you will review and let me know.**

 **Bye for now. Just because this story ended doesn't mean it's over, and if that sounds circular - well, so's the island.**


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